The walk home was a blur. Usually, I\'m checking my watch or annoyed by the wind blowing at my hair but tonight I didn\'t even notice the cold until I was standing at my front door. I went to grab my keys and my hand just... disappeared. I’d forgotten I was still buried in your sleeves.
I stood there under the flickering porch light for a second, looking down at this massive charcoal black sweater. It’s way too big for me. The wool is a little scratchy but it smells exactly like you - that mix of cedar and the coffee shop we just left. It’s a weird feeling, having someone else’s scent following you into your own house.
I didn\'t bother with the lights when I got inside. I just sat on the edge of the couch, listened to the heater groan as it slowly started up and stared into the distance. Usually, the first thing I do is kick off my shoes and get back to my own life but right now... I didn\'t want to move. I pulled the collar up over my nose and just sat there in the dark.
It’s funny how a piece of clothing can feel so heavy. Not the weight of the wool but the weight of you draping it over my shoulders at the bus stop without saying a word. You didn\'t even ask if I was cold; you just saw me shiver and handled it.
I know I should probably text you and let you know I still have it. I should say I\'ll bring it back tomorrow. But my phone is sitting in my bag on the table and I’m just... not ready to take the sweater off yet. It’s like if I keep it on, the night hasn\'t actually ended yet. I’m just going to sit here a little longer and see how long your warmth stays trapped in the threads.