.:The Illumination of Sorrow:.

THE BLACK BAG

She isn't searching for him. Because that would be crazy. There are millions of people in this city. Olive would even say billions, considering how small she feels.

But she isn't averse to, say, running into him on the off chance he happens to be prowling the midnight streets the same time she is.

She can imagine it, vividly.

"Oh hey," He'll say. "It's you."

"Yeah, no." She'll smile. "Who else?"

Olive lowers her expectations. She doubts she'll ever see him again. Three times within the span of two weeks was rare luck.

Wishing for a third time would be greedy and vain, and vanity does not become her.

Olive strolls down the mostly empty roads, save for the occasional linked couple or gun peddler. No high elderly emerge from the darkness to harass her, thank goodness. The streetlights blaze against the dark like strings of perfect jellyfish, lighting her way through the park, down the hill, and over the bridge.

She stops there, the carved stone bridge charming her into stillness. The railing is pebble smooth from the summer rains, and the river underneath reaches its hand out to the glittering city out for miles and miles and miles.

As long as she's lived in this city, she never once stopped on this bridge. Never once saw this view.

Her finger trails on the craftwork as she tries to remember the last time she built anything permanent and lasting. Other than Bean and her balm, of course.

"You gonna jump?" Someone materializes beside her.

Olive faces the voice and thanks the universe for miracles, big and small. "Yeah, no. The bridge isn't tall enough to do any real damage."

There he is. Elmo is propped against the railing, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, camera slung around his neck like an extra limb.

"You've thought this through."

"I'd break an arm, at most."

"And you'd break my heart." He snaps his first picture of the night, not giving Olive enough time to react.

"Could you give me some warning before you go off snapping pics?"

"Can't. It takes away from the subject's reality. And I want nothing but the truth from you, Olive. Speaking of which, are you alright? I thought somebody stole your best balm, the way you stormed off at the club."

"Yes, everything is fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"I had to take care of something."

"Something?"

"Well, someone."

"Boyfriend crying for attention?"

"No. My brother. I just wanted to make sure he was alright. A fourteen year old boy lost in a nightclub spells disaster."

"He can't take care of himself?"

"He's getting better at it, that's for sure."

"Are your parents not in the picture?"

"Parents? What are parents?"

Elmo assumes she's joking. "So it's like that, huh? On your own. Two young bloods stalking the night life in search of danger and adventure."