The morning was harsh, maybe because I woke up with my head pounding so hard.
Getting up was a struggle after working until the wee hours.
But this did not stop me. I grabbed a cup of coffee and let it in my system, savoring each drop as though it was my life line.
I got to school where I saw you, always with that same disposition you always had, of which I learned to adore.
The classroom was cold, and I had no defense against it.
A thought suddenly crossed my mind.
“What if I borrow his sweatshirt?”
So I did.
And I had it on, dismissing doubts about how I felt wearing the same garment that hugged your body each time you felt cold.
You let me have it for the meantime, and with this being my first time to borrow a man’s sweatshirt, I was surprised.
I am overwhelmed by your scent, one thing that always draws me near.
Your sweatshirt had remnants of your arms’ embrace, and I am delighted.
As I slept on it, I left one thought just before shut-eye.
“I think I’m getting there, but I’m not pretty sure how I did.”