Sad laughter: that was a new one. Tears of happiness was something with which Jim was familiar; hell, he'd laughed until he cried loads of times, but this was something different. While Aimee shook off the first tremors of a break down, Jim watched, frozen with fear, like one staring down the barrel of a gun. Etiquette dictated that a girl didn't want to talk about her feelings unless she talked about her feelings, because that's what they do, girls. But he couldn't just ignore what he saw. Over the previous week, Aimee hoarded her emotions, and was steadfast on the outside, like stone; it was only a matter of time until that reservoir of pain became too great a load to contain. What Jim saw was a crack in the dam, and a trickle of what was to come, and he'd be there when it did. Once she was settled, he spoke:

"There won't be another drafty warehouse, Aimee. Never again."