Monica was laying on the couch. Her eyes were looking at the television yet she wasn't really watching it. It was a program about a missing girl from the Midwest. The girl was only nine years old, and the parents and her community still were hopeful about finding her. The girl had been missing for over three weeks.

Just as Owen walked into the dimly-lit apartment, an image of the girl's crying mother took over the screen. She wiped at her tears with a tissue handed to her by someone around her.

"What are you watching?" he asked as he took his shirt off, balled it up and threw it into the hamper before joining his girlfriend on the couch.

"I dunno," she said.

"How was work today? Without Astrid?"

He turned the television off and inched toward her. The only light in the whole place was the tiny one beneath the microwave in the kitchen.

"What's the matter, babe? You don't wanna talk about it?"

He kissed her shoulder and swept her hair out of her face. His hands ran down the front of her while he waited for her to respond. Monica felt his warm skin and wanted to be closer than close.

"I do. Not right now."

She reached down for his belt and unbuckled it between kisses. Making love with Owen had become a comfort. It had the same effect as a warm bath or a cup of tea.

Monica smelled his hair and left a trail of kisses down his neck. He picked her up off the couch and carried her to their bed. They fell asleep afterwards, naked, and forgot all about eating dinner that night.