Now Amy had gone and done it.

After she had such a good night with Laurie and you, the theatre feeling warmer than normal with you beside her..

She had come home, only to find her manuscript burned.

None if it was left. Gone, and up in flames.

And it was all Amy's ault, what was even more embarrassing, was that you were there to witness her petty sister fight.

Though, not necessarily petty. She feels so incredibly furious.

Even hours later, a tense quiet having fallen upon the house, she sits on the wooden floor of her room.

The bed is too comfortable to grieve.

And the floor just cool enough to soothe the burning fire of rage inside her.

All Jo knows is that, she's still completely exasperated, and needs to let it all out.

She's sure if she goes on any longer without expressing her annoyance, or at least, apologising for making you witness that, she might explode.

A part of her knows, though, that it's pain.

She'd spent hours on that writing, and now it'll never come back.

Reminding herself not to tear up doesn't seem to be cutting it.

As if she couldn't be more humiliated, you'd just walked in.