Prompt: out (written for harryron100)
Word Count: 100
Sometimes I look out my window and expect to see you sitting on the back porch, knees tucked under your chin, black hair sticking up on all sides, wrapped up in the coat that’s too large, drinking from the cup that’s too small. Why you still wore that old thing, with the holes at the elbow, I never understood. Why you didn’t grab a larger cup, I’ll never get a chance to ask.
They said it would be easier if I put away your stuff, but they didn’t tell me that all of my stuff would still smell like you.