"February"
an excerpt

Blaine Sutherland sat in the largest armchair in the café, yet while it seemed to shrink the tallest of men, he sat like a lord on his throne, tall and proud. And very tired. One hand clasped a cup of strong black coffee, the other lazily held a well read book, his thumb snugly rest on the page which he had stopped at while the words still made sense to him. He took a mouthful before putting it back on the round coffee table at his feet, his eyes grazing over the empty chair in front of him. His watch told him that she was late, but a smile spread on his lips. She was never one to count on being punctual. He assumed that it was probably one of the reasons he loved her so - the fact that she was not perfect, nor tried to fool others into thinking that she was.