She could no longer remember if the air was cold or hot. She could no longer tell if the light she squinted her eyes against was the harsh L.A. sunlight or the harsh L.A. street-lights. She could no longer remember a time when she didn't stink of garbage or a time when her blonde hair wasn't matted with dirt. She also couldn't remember why she'd run away from home, or the things she'd been doing to afford the bottles and bottles of vodka that kept her mind comfortably numb. She was thankful not to remember those things. Nobody would notice if she died, she thought. She was seventeen. Just another high-school dropout. No one special. No one would notice if she just died right here in this alley.

She didn't miss home. No, not home. Just the place she was before here. She'd been homeless much longer than L.A. She missed Francine, but that was it. Everything else was just static. She couldn't remember how long she'd been in L.A. It was just her and a bottle. She liked it that way.

Later she would be told it had been a Tuesday, but at the time it was just another day. Just another incoherent day with her mind numb and her soul dead. A shadow fell across her face. The breeze whipped at her hair. It took her a good three minutes to look up.

"Huh?" she said.

She looked like an angel. Tall, polished and perfect, with short dark hair and a smile that took up her whole face. Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. She took a drag off her cigarette. Inhale. Exhale. Like she had all the time in the world.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Huh?"

"Your name. What is it?"

"My... my name? Katina."

"I'm Emma."

She held out her hand. Katina just looked up at her. For a second Emma wondered what the Hell she was doing. The young girl couldn't weigh more than eighty pounds soaking wet, she was dirty and drunk and going nowhere fast. Why was she doing this? Then the thoughts went away as quickly as they'd come. This girl could've been her. This girl could easily have been her a few years ago. She laughed at herself. The laugh didnšt belong in the alley. The laugh was crystal and pure and beautiful.

"I'm Emma. You're coming with me."

She took Emma by the hand. She could barely stand up, let alone think. What was this? What was going on? Who was this woman?

"Jesus. When was the last time you ate, sweetheart? You're nothing but skin and bones."

"Wha?"

She laughed again. The laugh sent little shivers up and down Katina's spine. "Food. We'll clean you up and then youŒre getting food. How do you feel about Mexican?"

She started to cry, leaving little streaks of cleanness in the dirt on her face.

"Shh... no, sweetheart. Don't cry. Don't cry in L.A. Never let them see you cry here."