I lift the covers and slide back into bed.
It still smells of you. I imagine that it’s still warm with you.
I turn off the light, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.
The room hasn’t changed much. A few familiar things gone, a few new things on the dresser and nightstand.
People change. Even you.
That’s when I hear your key in the lock downstairs.
I get out of bed, pull on my clothes, and crawl back out the window.
As I watch you sleep, I wonder if you can feel my warmth, smell my skin.
Sleep well.