She stands in a dark alcove, watching the door to the pub. Wearing a trench coat, black stockings, stilettos and nothing else, her heart aches. He had invited her to his room, but when she got to the hotel. she couldn't enter.

Their plan had been that if she couldn't bring herself to come to the hotel, she would meet him at the pub thirty minutes later.

He had walked to the pub about an hour ago. She had followed him, staying hidden. His gait had seemed happy and carefree. His cowboy boots had made an interesting sound as he walked on the stone street. The ten gallon hat hid his hair and facial features.

Now, as he left the pub he seemed dejected. His shoulders slumped, his steps slow, he ambled back to his hotel. Her heart went ot to him, knowing that she had hurt him. She longed to be strong enough to go up to him, but she was so scared from past traumas. She longs to meet this man who has befriended her from afar, but still hesitates.

He finally makes it back to his hotel and goes inside. She waits a moment, then crosses the street and follows him in. As she goes up the stairs, she still wonders if she will see him. Walking to the room number he sent her, she stands there searching for the strength to knock on the door.

Will she??? or....