Sophia Moretti

Sophia thought that it was going to be another ordinary evening. With James safely taken care of, she was on her way home to enjoy a few hours of sleep until he made it back to the office. It was just a few blocks walking back to her apartment. Except she didn't see the drunk driver who blew through the intersection and hit her as she was crossing the street.

When James called to confirm he had made his flight home, he'd be surprised to hear a new voice on the other end of the phone. One of the other people in the office who, when pressed, would tell him that Sophia had been hit by a car and was currently in the hospital. The drunk driver had been caught and arrested a few blocks down the street, but not before he injured her.

Sophia sat at her desk. The same desk she had been behind for the last four years, ever since she had been told she wasn't beautiful enough or athletic enough to be a spy. So she had been made an officer instead, essentially on call to the spies she worked with, giving them information, doing their research, and being their extra set of eyes and ears in the field.

She knew James would be calling. He always called on time. After four years she knew him like the back of her hand, even though they had never met. She knew him so well, she knew what suits he had packed for this trip. He told her everything, and she was glad to listen. It was a chance to touch the life she'd never have. So when she heard her phone ring, she leaned back in her chair and smiled.

"How was your flight?" she asked.