Standing in the foyer, dripping water all over the small rug placed in front of the door, was a rain-soaked Mark. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers and a tub of ice cream. "How are you and your aunt holding up?" He asked upon seeing her. "Simon told me what happened after I texted him last night."
"We're holding," was all she could manage to say, still emotionally raw from the previous night's events and her night terror. "Aunt Phoebe's still asleep."
