The sight of the red-head somehow convinced Vince that Tara had had an accident and he smiled weakly. As Willow got closer to him, his unplanned torrent of words attacked her ears, making her flinch. “Hey, easy there!” she told him, her spare hand coming to rest on his well muscled forearm, “She’s probably asleep!” she finished, her eyes twinkling as her cheeks flushed.

Together they rode the rickety elevator to Tara’s floor and wandered the cold corridor to her door. Vince knocked and shook his head, “No point knocking,” he said, “Can’t hear it anyway.” With the he pulled the heavy door back and stepped inside, followed by Willow. “Tar….” His voice trailed off as he saw the picture standing proudly on the easel a few feet in front of him. Willow stood by his side, her mouth falling open and the large bouquet falling to the floor. “Oh my god!” she whispered as her hands came to her mouth.

Vince approached the still damp canvass and studied it closely, “Wow.” He breathed, he had seen many of Tara’s pieces and understood none of them or the meanings or reasons behind them. This however, he understood with absolute clarity. The passion and love that had been sunk into the image radiated from the captivating green eyes. Willow hadn’t moved, her legs threatening to give way at any moment as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Vince turned as he heard a single sob escape her and her legs gave way leaving her in a crumpled, staring heap.

Tara wandered slowly back down the corridor, blissfully unaware of the scene in her apartment. “I know I can love you much better than this…..” she sang cheerfully as she pulled the door back and entered her home.

Before her, Vince was stood open-mouthed, Willow kneeling on the floor, a large bouquet of flowers discarded carelessly at her side and her eyes obviously focused on the picture even though Tara couldn’t see her face.

Had anyone happened to walk past the open door and looked in at the trio, they could be forgiven for thinking that a higher being had pressed the pause button on their lives.

Vince made an effort to speak, his mouth moving up and down but not a single sound emerging from it. Willows shoulders were shaking slightly as Tara padded silently to the slumped figure on the ground. She knelt behind her, her arms wrapping around her centre, her head resting lightly on the shaking shoulder before her. “Willow?” she asked quietly. Never in all her life had Tara been so scared about the reaction to one of her paintings, her entire career resting on the response of the paintings subject. “What do you think?” she asked, shaking the startled red-head slightly.