It was Sunday evening. Maybe in other, better cities people were waking up from the naps they took to sleep off Grandma's pot roast dinner after church. Maybe they were riding bikes under streetlights or swinging on suburban porch swings, counting fireflies
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And while he wasn't rich, he did have money in his pockets and he was hanging out after the show since there wasn't much else to do.
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Her hand jerked. Knocked over a glass. Karla didn't bother to wipe it up. Couldn't. Nothing registered beyond the ringing in her ears and the repetition of his name.
Just minutes ago, she'd agreed to Angelface's terms: marry him to let her sister go free. And now here was this strange woman, offering her everything she'd ever needed to hear.
"Are you some kind of guardian angel?" she choked out at last.
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"I take it that's good news," Dinah said, as dry as her martini. But she was hiding a tiny smile. "He said I should pass along -- what was it? Oh yeah. Olaf says it's safe."
Olaf, for crying out loud. Seriously, I could not make that up.
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"Olaf," she whispered. "He was a snowman. My sister, Elsa, named him. It was right before we'd found out our parents were dead."
Only the three of them had been there, that cold winter morning in Arendelle, where they'd laughed and played with a childish abandon that would never exist again.
"It's real. It's really real."
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She finally turned to face Dinah fully. "Thank you. So much. Good luck with your case. I hope you find whatever bastard did it."
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Maybe if I'd had a sister, or a partner, well...
Some things can't be fixed.
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