Penny for Your Thoughts

Within a warm room, six friends silently observed the snow softly drifting down outside the window in the chilly winter night.
The man standing next to the window smiled, one hand running through his now naturally gray hair before coming to rest on the shoulder of his long time partner, the other holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate. It had been so long since they had been together, for no purpose other than to simply enjoy each others company. And it felt, nice.
As if he understood his elder brothers thoughts the man across the room, leaning against the couch in front of the fire, smiled. As the smile moved across his face, his brown eyes lost some of their sadness, which seemed at times permanently ingrained there in the wrinkles on his face. Without so many lines the smile, along with help from the graying hair at his temples, allowed his face to gain a distinguished look. He too held a mug in his hands, but unlike his brothers this one held hot cider and in it floated not marshmallows, but a stick of cinnamon.
On the couch against which the younger brother fortified himself sat, curled up on one side and covered in a light quilt, the oldest friend of the two brothers. Her eyes stared off into the fire, as if she looked without seeing. In reality, those tired brown eyes saw everything in the room and it made the lady feel warm inside, without the help of the fire or quilt. This was a much better way to spend ones nights.
Across the couch, in its other corner, also curled up but with a pillow and without a quilt was another woman. Her hazel eyes reflected the fire and moonlight as she alternately shifted her gaze languidly between the two. The streaks of silver in her hair glowed under the gentle light and she was content to simply enjoy the lone hand on her shoulder.
In front of her on the floor, leaning again the couch and wearing sweater that was entirely too big, sat her best friend of close to fifty years. Her once blond hair had long since faded into a pale imitation of its former brilliance under stress, but for the moment there were no outside pressures and she too was content to watch the fire.
On the other side of the fire, in an overly large armchair, obviously designed with someone of bigger stature in mind, sat the final occupant of the room. The warmth of the fire melted the light sprinkling of snow still in the most recent arrivals hair. In silence her blue-green eyes followed the gray haired mans gaze out the window, watching the falling snow as it gently blanketed the ground.
Each member of the close-knit group sat quietly, immersed in his or her individual thoughts but, unavoidably it seemed, they had all glanced more than once at the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace and every single one of them could not help but remember. The dancing flames serving only to remind them of the seventh friend, who was not present, could not be present and that remorse put a slight damper on the otherwise quite pleasant atmosphere of the calm room.