I pick up her scarf from the back of the bedroom chair. Press it to my face and the tears seep into the silk, the scent of it into my pores. The swooping pit of loss overwhelms me once more. Just another day when my thoughts turn to the time I must spend alone.
The crunching of gravel brings me back, a car door opens and shuts. The kitchen door opens and shuts. She is home. I have not lost her today.
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