If a thing loves, it is infinite

[very_sharpe]

Thomas steps back a bit, taking a look around his apartment. The windows are open to let in the fresh air and the light. After months of living here, he's realized he could... decorate the place. He found some art to hang, perhaps stock art but it's all he can afford just now. It's nothing like Allerdale, soothing and bright. He has a more comfortable sectional, and a few bookcases now, with books on them.

On his coffee table sits his agenda book - he has two interviews this week - and an application for the local university. Though he's a little unsure that he's qualified, given his last education was completed in the late 19th century. Still, he'll hope, and he'll apply and see where it gets him.

There are two gallon-sized fish tanks: one on the kitchen color, another on a small table in the living room. Each housed a colorful betta fish. Thomas found himself a bit lonely, so used to having at least someone around all the time, that he thought something living might be nice. There are small plants sitting on the window sill: a pot of violets and a basil plant. He's never... grown anything before. And to be fair, he didn't grow these, but they haven't died on his watch, either. Surely that counts for something.

He's completely embraced modern fashion, utterly delighted by the sheer variety of ready-made clothes available. Today finds him in a pair of dark jeans and a sort of oatmeal colored sweater.

He picks up his mug of tea and the university application again, reading it over when he's a bit startled by a knock at his door. He's not expecting anyone. Thomas sticks the papers under his arm and answers it, tea still in one hand.

Comments

[very_sharpe]

"She was writing. She was using a typewriter there because she didn't have one at home. She worried her handwriting was too feminine for a publisher to take seriously." He shakes his head, remembering well - though he'd only learned the latter part later. "She did. That's how we got to know each other, really. She would write and give me her drafts. I read them, we talked. It was... wonderful, really. She's so passionate about it, and quite good."

[puckandpie]

Oh goodness, that's not something I would've thought of honestly. It makes sense though given what I've learned of things from that time period, how women would use pen names or abbreviations so they could actually get published.

"You fell in love through that, didn't you?" I reply, smiling a little at the thought. "Is that when Edith found out? Or did that come later?"

[very_sharpe]

"I did. And... really the night I fell rather deeply was a night we waltzed together." He smiles at the memory. "Neither of us quite belonged there, but I could at least play the part. I'd been playing it for a long time."

His look softens a bit. "No, she didn't find out about-- about everything until much later. After we were married."

[puckandpie]

Thomas's face goes soft and sweet again and it's easy to smile at him as he talks, taking another sip of my tea as I try to imagine it. Goodness, waltzing. So romantic.

"Did you waltz at your wedding too?" I ask, grinning at him. "Do y'all have a song?"

[very_sharpe]

Thomas smiles. "I'm not sure we have a song," he admits. "I should have danced with her far more often than I did, but I-- I got caught up in the scheme of things, after our marriage. I want to get it right this time. I want to do right by her, even if it means we remain friends. But I have hope."

A faint flicker of it, but it's more than he's had about anything in a long time, so he will cling to it.

[puckandpie]

"Well, I guess if there's anything good about this place, it's having a second chance at things" I tell him, brightening just a little when I realize how sincere he really seems. I haven't doubted his affection for Edith since the minute he first told me about her and even now, after knowing a little bit more, I still don't. It seems obvious to me that he really, really loves her and I guess that's what matters most here.

"If you love her even half as much as you seem to, I've a feeling it'll work out this time," I say, giving him a quick, friendly wink. "Just you wait and see, Sharpie. I have a lot of faith in the power of love."