Theodore Mansion.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
***************
Lydia sat on the edge of the bed, the soft glow of a single candle casting flickering shadows on the walls. She was engrossed in a thick economy book, its dense text a temporary distraction from her longing for Theodore. He had left suddenly from his office and when she went to check on him, Tom told her he left for work.
The evening had stretched into night, and though she knew he had important matters to attend to, she couldn't help but wish for his presence. The warmth of his arms, the comfort of his embrace—these thoughts filled her mind as she turned each page, her eyes scanning the words but not truly absorbing them and the conversation they had last night still haunted her.
