“I mean, I don’t necessarily want to admit this”, she said rather candidly, gazing down at the stand of icy blonde hair she has been running between her index finger and thumb.

“But to be quite frank, if I heard him knock on my door whilst the winds howled and raindrops pounded the concrete…” Her gaze peers up and she looks directly into my eyes with a sullen whisper, “I don’t believe I’d care enough to even answer it."

With that I realized, he'd never be allowed back in and would be lucky enough to merely have access to her front stoop.