Breathing him in

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I can't tell if the pillow still really smells like him or not anymore.

After six weeks, (six weeks since he touched it, six weeks, forty-one nights, since he, since he touched) probably not.

Maybe it smells like me, maybe like us, maybe like nothing at all.

I can't tell and I'm not sure it matters.

This is Saturday Night, a chronicle of loneliness.