[center][color=slateblue][b][u]11:34 PM; February 12th, 2026
344 Clinton Street, Room 237; Metropolis, Delaware[/u]
[i]'I feel like I need to leave but... I can't leave Marilyn.'[/i][/b][/color][/center]

Stacy wakes up at the sound of soft sobbing in the next room. She pulls herself out of bed, tiptoeing to the door and cracking it open slowly. Peeking out, she sees nothing but a faint light from the kitchen, Marilyn's shadow playing along the walls. Carefully, Stacy pushes the door open, her socks masking her footsteps as she walks towards the kitchen. There, she sees Marilyn, sitting at the dinner table and holding a picture to her chest, tears streaming down her face. [color=slateblue][b]"... Marilyn? Are you okay?"[/b][/color]

At the sound of Stacy's voice, Marilyn freezes, before turning to her. She sets the picture down on the table, wiping her eyes. After a moment, she manages to speak, despite still being choked up. [b]"Stacy? What are you doing out of bed?"[/b]

The younger girl walks closer, getting into the chair across from Marilyn. [color=slateblue][b]"I heard you crying. Are you okay?"[/b][/color]

Marilyn sniffles a bit and wipes her glasses, before putting on a smile. [b]"Yeah. I'm okay, sweetheart."[/b]

[color=slateblue][b]"But you were crying."[/b][/color]

[b]"I'm just... Remembering."[/b]

[color=slateblue][b]"Remembering what?"[/b][/color]

[b]"My... My husband. And my son."[/b] Marilyn picks up the picture, handing it to Stacy. Taking a look at it, Stacy sees that the picture is of Marilyn with a man and a boy only a bit older than Stacy. Marilyn is obviously younger, looking to be in her mid 30s, and looks far thinner. The man next to her looks to be in his late 30s, with a bushy black beard and short black hair contrasting with Marilyn's long red curls. The boy looks similar to the both of them, with his mother's blue eyes and his father's black hair. They all smile at the camera.

Taking in a deep breath, Marilyn smiles forlornly at the picture, then looks at Stacy. The girl furrows her brow in confusion. [b][color=slateblue]"Where are they?"[/color][/b]

[b]"They... They died. Six years ago now... Today my little Johnny would've been 22."[/b]

Stacy continues to look at the picture, a name ringing through her head when looking at the late boy. David... Who is that? When she thinks of the name she feels a motherly love, but also crushing sadness. She's never met a David before in her life. Has she? Still, the longer she looks at the boy in the picture, the sadder she feels, and before she knows it she's shedding tears of her own.

She passes the picture frame back to Marilyn, who sets it upright on the table and continues to look at it before beginning to cry again. Wordlessly, Stacy stands up and walks over to Marilyn, wrapping her arms around the older woman and squeezing tightly. Marilyn returns the gesture, hugging Stacy closely. After several minutes, the two finally part, and Marilyn smiles at the younger girl. [b]"Thank you."[/b]

Stacy lets her smile speak for her.