160508 Tears     It's one of those days when you get annoyed at every little thing and just want to kill off everyone you see. And no, you're not on your period. Standing outside your apartment, you heave a long and heavy sigh before turning the key and opening the door. Unlike usual days, the lights are on and sounds from the TV can be heard.   "You're back?" He asks from the sofa as you kick off those killer heels you've been walking in the whole day.   "Don't talk to me," is your reply to his welcome. Without as much as a look at him, you head straight into the room and slam the door shut. You sit on the edge of the bed and sigh yet another time. Just as you're thinking that the TV is making your headache worse, he turns it off. Or mutes the sound, you're not sure but the noise disappears. Throwing your shoulder bag onto the floor, you lean back and lie down to stare at an imaginary spot on the ceiling. A knock comes from the door, once, twice. You ignore it, but he comes in anyway.   "I turned the heater on for you," he says, his voice ever so gentle. You nod but don't say anything. Taking your response as cue, he moves to sit on the bed near your head. He softly sweeps the stray hair away from your face and at the same time let the back of his hand rest for a second too long on your forehead. No fever, you can almost hear him think.   Not moving from your position, you let yourself look up at him, grateful that he's not asking any questions. You don't even know wh