Thomas stared at her blankly. This was too much.
"Jen, I can't take this," He said again.
She placed her hands on the desk. Her fingernails clicked on the wooden surface, "Why? Don't want it?"
"No, it would just..." Thomas leaned back against the doorframe. The letter dangled from his right hand.
"It would be inappropriate," Jennifer finished for him.
Thomas let his knees buckle and slowly sank to the floor. A ball of fur attached itself to his slacks, but he didn't notice.
The cat turned its head and looked at them. Grey whiskers bristled and its tongue darted out to taste the air.
Jennifer began to drum her fingers on the deak. The clicking of her nails filled the room.
"I understand that you're upset," Thomas said, bringing his hands to his knees, "I'm sorry."
Jennifer stared at him. Her ice blue eyes bore into his. She had set her mouth in a line and her pale skin looked as if it was made of stone.
"You broke up with me, remember?" Thomas said, not moving his eyes from hers.
The cat suddenly stood. It walked between them and out th door. Neither of them moved. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed, it echoed.
"Yes," Jennifer replied. She looked away from him. Her fingers stopped drumming on the desk. She brought her hands to her lap and pulled the sleeves of her blouse over them. Her fingers began to twist and wring the cuffs. It made a soft rustling noise.
Thomas straightened his back. He folded the letter again and placed it on the floor beside him.
Jennifer looked at the letter. The lightness of the paper reflected on the hardwood floor. Softly, she asked, "Would you like to know why I kept it?"
Thomas looked at her and then the letter. It was next to his right shoe. "Do I want to know?"
With a creak, Jennifer rose and walked over to Thomas. She leaned against the wall next to him and dropped into a sitting position. She drew her knees to her chest. The letter was on the floor between them.
"It gave me hope," she said slowly, "I never really believed someone like you could love me, at all. After you left, it was the only thing to remind me that you did."
Thomas stared ahead.
Jennifer looked at her and Thomas' feet. She was wearing an old pair of tennis shoes that had begun to grey. The shoelaces were frayed. Thomas was wearing a pair of brown leather shoes, meticulously polished. They began to swim in her vision as her eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't send you a wedding invitation," Thomas said. He let his head fall back to rest against the wall.
"I understand," Jennifer said. A tear escaped and she blinked. Two wet streaks began to extend from her eyes.
"I figured you would be too proud to come," Thomas went on, "but it bother me that I couldn't have someone there who meant so much to me."
He brought his hand up and ran it through his hair. It began to stick up. He looked over at her. He saw the wet streaks and his hand instinctively reached over and touched them.
She turned, facing him. Their eyes locked. She brought her hand up and placed it over his. She dimly noticed how large his hand was. It covered her whole cheek.
They kissed softly. His full lips met hers. Niether seemed to move. They held themselves together for a long time.
Thomas pulled away first. He withdrew his hand and stood. He walked over to the bed and grabbed his coat, pulling it on over one shoulder.
"Tom?" Jennifer asked, wrapping her arms about her knees.
He walked in front of her. She looked up at him.
"I'm sorry, Jennifer, but I've got to get going. I'm meeting somebody for dinner," he said, pulling his leather gloves out of his pockets and putting them on.
She rose as he passed to the doorway.
"Tell her I said hello," she called softly and he was gone.