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Weekly Contest #352
Instinctively, as she had every morning since he left, she reached across the bed. Her hand searched the empty space where he should have been, fingers brushing only cool sheets. Eyes still closed, she leaned toward his pillow, hoping for the faintest trace of him. She loved the way he smelled—earthy, steady. Not sweat, not anything sharp or fleeting. If warmth could have a scent, if safety could linger in the air, it was that.When she finally opened her eyes, the room was still wrapped in darkness. An hour before sunrise. Too early for the ...
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