Glad to see you didn't burn the house down.

"I 'm glad to see that you didn't burn the house down." I say as I walk up.

She raises an eyebrow, gives a half smirk and says, "I do know how to work a gas stove you know."

I apologize for taking so long to get there and follow her into the house. The place is small but has a cozy atmosphere to it. I hang up my coat and turn towards Sara.
She's wearing a white blouse and pastel blue dress, and the way she stands looking out the window causes the light to almost make her glow. I stand absolutely awestruck by the vision I see before me.

She turns toward me and I shake my head, trying to regain my composure. Sara sits down on the couch and pats the spot next to her for me to sit down beside her.
I do so, but all I can see when I look at her now is an angel bathed in white light.

"Thanks for being here," she says, "I'm just so nervous, I already made the call to my lawyer to start quietly drawing up the paperwork."

"Are you going to try to get the house or anything?" I ask her.

She scowls, "No. I know that most of what we owned is paid for in the Mob's blood money, so he can keep it. I've got a little money saved up in my own accounts; enough for a fresh start anyway. You know, I can't believe I looked the other way on so much of what he did. I just thought...I..I..Do you think I am a bad person?"
Tears are welling in her eyes and she doesn’t look at me.

I put a hand on her shoulder, "You are one of the best people I've ever met. You just thought that maybe if you stayed with him he'd change, become a better person himself."

Sara buries her face into my chest and sobs, "I'm so stupid. Why, why, why..." The ocean of sorrow that had built up inside her poured out in a river of tears.

I grab her and hold her tight, "You are not stupid. You wanted him to become a better person, there is nothing stupid about that. He's the fool for not seeing what a beautiful person you are for trying to save him."

We clung to each other for a long time. I started to stroke her head but quickly stopped, not wanting to take advantage of the situation. After a while she stopped crying and broke away from me. "Thank you so much. I'm sorry about all this, I'm so embarrassed."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed for." I tell her. I reach out and wipe away a few remaining tears from her face, "You have obviously been holding that in for far too long. Do you want to talk about it?"

Sara agrees and we talk for hours. She tells me her about her life, I tell her about mine. We laugh as we share embarrassing moments, and offer sympathies to lost loved ones. She is shocked by how much time I have spent in the hospital recovering from one fight or another. I don't like to talk about the battles I've been in, but she insists. I am telling her about one particular time when a **** dealer, amped up on meth, came at me with a katana, when she asks to see the scar.

"You really want to see the scar?" I ask her.

"I'm just curious," she responds, "Come on Whipser, please."