[Omar sits in the floor with his back pressed hard against a mall map. The advertisement on its opposite side has flickered out long ago, leaving only a darkened image of a woman with shopping bags dangling from her arms. For some reason, it had upset the doctor as he passed by it; more than likely the thought that the catalog models, the faceless people they had passed every day at one time, had lives too. They were out here somewhere or already gone, leaving them surrounded by vestiges of lives that once were. 

The man lets out a long sigh, a mumbled prayer leaving his lips before a strained choke did the same. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. And while he tries to keep the tears out of his voice, they persist all the same when he hears the footsteps behind him.] Yes?