Gone With the Wind

May 13, 2008
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.

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