July 7, 2017, thirteen days since Mitch died
My love,
I'm still in bed.
It's about 9:23 in the morning, and I'm wearing your biggest sweatshirt and crying.
It smells like you.
I'm so tired. But I can't sleep. I can't sleep without you in my arms.
Last night I put your sweatshirt on, hoping that the smell might make me think you're next to me.
Instead it just made me cry.
I'm sorry about the tear-stains.
Yours,
Scott xx