The bed is daunting. There is no one in it, just me. I moved your pillows onto the floor on my side; they smell of your breath, your face. I decide to sleep in the middle, to fill at least some of the space where you would be; it is easy to pretend that I have been sleeping alone for many months and that tonight is no different though your headless pillows taunt me. You have left your jumper on the back of one of my chairs; I put it on before I got into bed. You are much smaller than me, my breasts fill and stretch the fibres of wool, my breathing makes the yarn tense. I am afraid my smell will sink into it, so I take it off; sift out the worn black edges of your knickers instead; place them over my head, the crotch to my nose. The scent is potent, intoxicating; I keep them on my head for half an hour, laying down and opening my legs to the smell of you, my eyes are wet when I orgasm; blurry.