Or should I slide it into her locker?
Fumbling with his keys, Grissom struggled to unlock the door to their townhouse.
“Sara.” He said, opening the door. His call echoed off the walls of the room, yielding no response. The living room was dark save the light from a small lamp.
Searching from room to room, Grissom was met with silence, not Sara. He looked toward the top of the stairwell; the deafening pound of his heart overpowering the unsettling quiet of the townhouse.
Climbing the stairs with the gravity of a funeral march, Grissom reached the landing. The door to the bedroom was open. Peering inside, the momentary glimmer of hope was extinguished by the scene before him. The bed was as vacant as his heart. She was gone.
He collapsed on the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands. She must have read the letter, he thought. Ten years of feelings poured from heart to pen to paper had not dispelled any lingering doubts of his devotion. Instead, it did what he feared most, it pushed her away.
Suffocating from the empty air, Grissom stood from the bed and opened the bedroom window. The cool air matched the chill in his body. Looking toward the patio below, his stomach flipped at the sight of Sara, the moonlight framing her angelic face. She was outside. Running down the stairs two at a time, only the railing saved him from a treacherous fall.
“Sara!” He said, gasping for air.
She turned; her eyes red and bleary with unshed tears.
“You scared me,” she said, bringing the letter into view. “I thought this meant the end.”
Grissom nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left the letter in your locker.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I meant every word.” Wiping the dampness from her cheek, he leaned in to claim her lips as his own.
“You scared me too.” He said, breaking their kiss. “The house felt so empty. I thought you had left.”
“Why would I leave?”
He shrugged. “I’ve treated you so differently since I returned from Williamstown. I thought giving you the letter might be too much.” Grissom stared at his feet, his voice trailing off into the night.
Touched by the show of vulnerability, Sara lowered her head to meet his gaze. “Griss, you were the man of my dreams before you left and much more so now.”
“So we are okay?” He gestured between the two of them.
“Almost perfect.”
“Almost?” Grissom raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t want you to become complacent.” She winked.
“Never,” he said, the weightlessness of resolution bringing a smile to his face. He kissed her temple. “Are you ready for bed?’
“You’re tired?”
“Not in the least.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Alternate ending: "Should I try again to give her the letter in person?"
“Sara.” He said, opening the door. His call echoed off the walls of the room, yielding no response. The living room was dark save the light from a small lamp.
Searching from room to room, Grissom was met with silence, not Sara. He looked toward the top of the stairwell; the deafening pound of his heart overpowering the unsettling quiet of the townhouse.
Climbing the stairs with the gravity of a funeral march, Grissom reached the landing. The door to the bedroom was open. Peering inside, the momentary glimmer of hope was extinguished by the scene before him. The bed was as vacant as his heart. She was gone.
He collapsed on the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands. She must have read the letter, he thought. Ten years of feelings poured from heart to pen to paper had not dispelled any lingering doubts of his devotion. Instead, it did what he feared most, it pushed her away.
Suffocating from the empty air, Grissom stood from the bed and opened the bedroom window. The cool air matched the chill in his body. Looking toward the patio below, his stomach flipped at the sight of Sara, the moonlight framing her angelic face. She was outside. Running down the stairs two at a time, only the railing saved him from a treacherous fall.
“Sara!” He said, gasping for air.
She turned; her eyes red and bleary with unshed tears.
“You scared me,” she said, bringing the letter into view. “I thought this meant the end.”
Grissom nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left the letter in your locker.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I meant every word.” Wiping the dampness from her cheek, he leaned in to claim her lips as his own.
“You scared me too.” He said, breaking their kiss. “The house felt so empty. I thought you had left.”
“Why would I leave?”
He shrugged. “I’ve treated you so differently since I returned from Williamstown. I thought giving you the letter might be too much.” Grissom stared at his feet, his voice trailing off into the night.
Touched by the show of vulnerability, Sara lowered her head to meet his gaze. “Griss, you were the man of my dreams before you left and much more so now.”
“So we are okay?” He gestured between the two of them.
“Almost perfect.”
“Almost?” Grissom raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t want you to become complacent.” She winked.
“Never,” he said, the weightlessness of resolution bringing a smile to his face. He kissed her temple. “Are you ready for bed?’
“You’re tired?”
“Not in the least.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Alternate ending: "Should I try again to give her the letter in person?"