As I awake from my deep sleep into my dark room, I glance at the clock, which reads 3:13 in shining green letters. I sit up, my skin sticking to my sheets with sweat. I take a good look around and inhale deeply. There I held my breath until I released it smoothly into a misty fog. I walked to the open window and shuddered, the icy wind running over my spine. I turn around and grab the first garment in reach. It is his gray sweatshirt. I thought of the fight we had only a few hours before. I hugged it to my chest and I smelled and felt him one more time. But as the bone chilling breeze flowed into my room, his scent was gone, and so was he.
Gone With the Wind
May 13, 2008