7:22 am

Lisa.

"Why the somber face?" Mr. Burglar asked, hands on the wheel, eyes on the end of the road. I didn't reply. "Come on, we're still not dead, and even dead, that somber face of yours would mean nothing."

God knows why, Aurora smiled. What he said only makes my face more 'somber'. It would mean nothing. That's neither the problem and all the problem. I don't need such a paper-thin consolation.