The rain was tapping incessantly on his car window and the wind was shaking the trees lining the sidewalk. Tom stared at your apartment through the passenger window. His leg was shaking and fingers were tapping the steering wheel erratically as his mind raced. He was beginning to doubt himself; he debated driving off, but he knew he’d only be back.
He looked down at the bouquet of flowers laying on the passenger seat and frowned, wishing something so pretty could be more permanent. In two weeks time, the flowers would wilt and die. Before that though, they would have to brave the torrent outside, as he was sure the heavy rain would damage their fragile petals. It didn’t look like the rain was letting up any time soon, though, and Tom was only stalling at this point. After turning off the engine, sucking in a breath, and steeling his nerves, he stepped out of the car.