She opened her eyes with a start and looked around. The room was empty and silent; the lanterns and paper cranes hanging from the ceiling were still. Turning over, she began to sniff his side of the bed frantically. She needed one whiff of clean laundry, shaving cream, deodorant, and that unnamed something--the particular scent of his skin. She ran her nose over the pillows and across the sheets and blankets, sniffing all the while.
There. On that pillow. A remnant of him. She curled herself around his smell like a cat and closed her eyes.
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