Mary felt utterly alone.
No one who truly saw her, no one who cared how she felt, no one who would even notice whether she stayed there or vanished forever.
"I wish I'd never been born…" she murmured through her tears.
But it was right then, at the lowest point of her entire existence, that a voice startled her from behind.
"Hey… are you okay?"
Mary turned toward the voice and found a guy roughly her own age looking down at her with genuine concern.
It was Mark.
He came stumbling in slightly, tie loose, shirt wrinkled, a bottle in his hand.
It was obvious he was coming back from work, and coming back drunk.
But the moment the smell of alcohol reached her, Mary's whole body tensed up on instinct.
Because that unsteady stagger reminded her far too much of what she'd just left behind in the apartment.
Mark, however, was nothing like her mother.
Where she was pure aggression, he was a calm drunk, with a goofy smile and gentle eyes.
