"How are you doing?" he said. I looked away from him, to stare at nothing in particular. With unblinking eyes I propped myself, slowly, to a more comfortable position, only to sit still, unmoving.

"Fine." He leaned out, "if you won't speak, allow me."

He held envelopes in his hands - one brown, one white. I had not noticed at first. Whatever it was, I only know the one possible reason for his coming here.

"A family was killed last night," he began, "evidence proved that it was no accident. Would you like to tell me why?" I didn't.

"I know what you did. And I know who you are." He said in a soft, intimidating voice. He was obviously attempting to put a frightener on me. Somewhat.

He went on telling me about myself. Things obvious. Where I worked. Where I grew up. Who did I hang out with. What I did. More so, he tells of what happens to people like me.

When he saw that none of what he said moved me, he placed the brown envelope he held in my open hands; which were by my sides.

"Open it." he tells me.

I stared at it for some time. Unwillingly, curiosity had made me pick it up. Before I opened it, a heavy burden laid in my heart. It felt odd. It took me some time before I decided I would open it.

My face paled instantly.

Time stopped for me. I could hear his voice no longer. Nor could I feel anything, except numbness. Everything froze. My sight fixed on the picture I saw.

A face.

In between two loving parents.

They were all smiling happy smiles.

The face was fair, and she smiled with a dimple dancing on her cheeks.

She had ebony eyes, and shoulder length ebonies.

An oriental face; one I could never forget.

The only friend I'll ever have.

Emily.