Written for Jen's birthday.

Room With a View

From the attic window she’d watched him walk uncertainly towards the house, the small bouquet clutched against his chest.

Moments later she’d wanted to scream when his good intentions were thrown to the ground, his highly-expressive face filling with the grief, pain and anger that echoed the emotions swirling sickeningly in her stomach.

As he’d turned and stormed furiously into the night she’d almost called out to him—almost flown down the stairs to throw herself into her friend's arms, to hide in the warm, safe scent of smoke and leather and purge the tears that she’d so far denied.