The walk back to the cabin was as dreary as a stormy night in the middle of July, but somehow Alexa had made it through.
She stalked her way into the room downstairs, and it wasn't the fact that he had not stopped her that brought tears to her eyes, but rather that he did not say anything at all. She had bared her heart to him, but he had said nothing, and there was nothing more embarrassing, more rending than that.
If only it could rain now, then she'd have some cover to empty her heart and purge herself of this frustration Christopher's rejection had brought upon her. But unfortunately, it was an average autumn evening, and there'll be no storm to drown out her sobs.
Curling herself on the bed and under a quilt, the tears freely fell, making an escape just before she could stop them. She wept for her foolishness and for this path of pain she had admitted herself into.