more story. (EDITED)

tom had been staying at his parents house the past two weeks. it was the house he grew up in for the most part. the house was empty now except for the things left in the storage room upstairs that tom had converted into a guest room. there was an old bed in there, a bicycle, golf clubs, other things.
someone he knew once had called him the other day leaving a message that she was coming to see him. she flew in from kansas city after spending a few days with her parents. tom thought that was funny for some reason. even though she had let him know she was coming tom was still a little surprised she showed up at the door. it was tuesday.
when the doorbell rang, tom sat there not moving. he was in the living room sitting on a folding chair he had put there. there was charred wood in the fire place with ashes scattered on the floor nearby. it had been two weeks.
the doorbell rang again.
tom got up and brushed some crumbs off his pants. he didn't remember eating anything that day. walking to the door he could see her peeking through the small window. she saw him.
the smile was something he had always remembered. he wrote about it, though none of those poems were well received by his editor.
he opened the door, attempting to hide what it was he felt.
she was still smiling, her face and neck blush.
'hello thomas,' she said.
'hello,' he said.
he stepped to the side to let her in, but she approached him to give him a hug. she leaned up and kissed his beard.
'it's nice to see you' she said, quietly.
'it's nice to see you too.'
'really?' she looked at him.
he looked to her side and saw she was carrying a grocery bag.
'what do you got there?'
'supplies,' she smiled again.
'let's go up stairs,' he turned.
'should i take off my boots down here?'
he shook his head and started up the stairs.
'we'll need glasses and ice,' she said.
'i have those up here,' he was halfway up the stairs now.
she didn't know what to say. she couldn't tell what he was thinking, or how he was feeling. she wanted to say something.
he didn't know why she was here, but he was glad in some way.
she came up to him, standing in the hallway waiting for her.
'what are you doing?'
'in here,' he opened a door that was painted over to blend with the wall. it opened to the storage room with the guest bed. he took the bag of supplies from her and started placing them on a card table he found the other day; two oranges; bitters; a bottle of simple syrup; a bottle of makers.
'old fashioned's,' he said.
'still drink them?'
'not since i last saw you' he started mixing a drink.
she didn't know what to say. he wasn’t looking at her.
he pulled out an ice tray from a mini fridge under the table.
'nice dorm room you have,' she said, looking around at all the collected junk, old things.
'yeah,' he poured one cup into the other to mix it. he looked around at the room but didn’t say anything else.
'the weather's really nice here,' she was looking at him again.
'is it?'
'it was dreadful in kansas city. it rained the first three days. stayed cooped up in the house with my parents. it was nice at first, but then i just couldn't wait to go. i couldn't wait to see you," she looked to him for recognition.
'well i'm glad you made it safe,' he handed her a drink. he smiled the way it doesn't look like he was smiling, his lips straightened out.
'me too,' she took the glass from him and took a sip.
'strong,' she made a face that wrinkled the bridge of her nose.
'you still drink it that way?' he was mixing his drink with his finger.
'not since i last saw you.'
he smiled.