For those glorious three weeks we spent almost every day together. We knew that every minute apart was wasted and that if we weren't in the same room we'd miss each other. The clothes collected on my bedroom floor as we laughed and basked in each other's love and the green shirt disappeared. I picked it up and breathed it in. I know I should wash it and send it to him but part of me just wants to keep it dirty. Keep it Chris-ified. I just want it to wrap around me and make him present. Make it like he's right here next to me curled up sleeping. I would edge closer to him and wrap my arms around him. Bury my face in his back or his chest. He's only been gone for four days but I want him back. Nothing really feels right when he's gone. When I lay down to sleep and know he's not following me to bed my heart hurts.
I'm still standing and holding the shirt. I'm torn between keeping it to love it and wanting him to have it. I put it in my laundry bag knowing that in the end he should have it. Besides. I still have the sweater I stole...
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