Honestly she barely waits for permission; it's good to know, really, that things are still more or less where she expects them to be. He could easily have taken over the empty drawers, moved things around.
She shrugs out of her blouse and bra with no trace of self- consciousness, leaving them folded on his dresser. More than anything, sliding into the too-big shirt puts her at ease, the familiar scent of what she still thinks of as home clinging to the worn fabric.
Slacks folded alongside her top, she moves bare-legged to what she can't help thinking of as her side of the bed. It should feel more momentous than it does, or more strange, but maybe she's too tired for anything to feel remarkable.
She slides into the bed. Part of her wants to tell him how much she's missed this-- missed him-- but putting it into words does feel too much. She can manage the action, at least, scooting closer as he settles.
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Honestly she barely waits for permission; it's good to know, really, that things are still more or less where she expects them to be. He could easily have taken over the empty drawers, moved things around.
She shrugs out of her blouse and bra with no trace of self- consciousness, leaving them folded on his dresser. More than anything, sliding into the too-big shirt puts her at ease, the familiar scent of what she still thinks of as home clinging to the worn fabric.
Slacks folded alongside her top, she moves bare-legged to what she can't help thinking of as her side of the bed. It should feel more momentous than it does, or more strange, but maybe she's too tired for anything to feel remarkable.
She slides into the bed. Part of her wants to tell him how much she's missed this-- missed him-- but putting it into words does feel too much. She can manage the action, at least, scooting closer as he settles.