apt 601, Thursday evening.

[collins_tom]

It was supposed to be a clear, warm night. Tom had rushed home after work and was admiring his work. He had pulled out a king sized air mattress and set it up on the balcony. New jersey cotton sheets, and a huge comforter in case it got cold. Huge fluffy pillows and an awning they could use to encircle the porch in case it did rain again.

He set up a table in the corner with red wine and dinner was in the over, lemon-pepper chicken with steamed veggies.

And of course, a vase holding a single blue rose.