The room was warm and comfortable when he entered. Tom was asleep in his bed as soup bubbled on the stove. Poppy was playing her cello, a slow fugue. Her large, round glasses were perched on the edge of her nose and she glanced up at him as he entered, pausing to give him a smile. "Hey, Craw."
She put down her cello and walked over to him, sliding her arms over his shoulders. "How was your day?"
She rubbed his back soothingly before heading to the stove, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Do you want some wine? I think we have some left over from last night."
