Her bare feet are soundless as she pads down the stairs wearing only his polo. It’s way
too big for her, but she can’t bring herself to take it off. She sticks her nose into the
collar, remembering his smell. Beer and vodka, as it were. Probably her smell too. It
wasn’t a regretful smell, or a regretful night at all. If she just didn’t take off his
shirt, the happy haze she was in couldn’t entirely go away.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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There is a lot of feeling and story in a very short number of lines here. I like this.
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