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I pull back the duvet and try to make as few movements as possible as I crawl in beside her and let the warmth from her body and the duvet envelop me. Her red hair is splayed out across my pillow. I reach out and stroke my fingers through the silken strands. My pillowcase isn’t getting washed again. It can smell of her forever so that whenever I lay my head on it, I can pretend she’s with me. Maybe it will be okay to move a little closer. I’m right on the edge of the mattress. If I fall out of bed I’ll wake her. I scoot closer to her, close my eyes and inhale. She smells of roses. Maybe I should get her some flowers. I picture myself holding a bunch of red roses and chuckle to myself. Nah, I’m not the suave type. Maybe I’ll get a rose tattoo to remind me of her scent.
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