Flannel Shirt

It drapes across my shoulders, this thick flannel shirt that belongs to him. The stiff fabric, starting to soften from use, billows around me making my bulky frame feel small and delicate in comparison. The collar brushes my cheek. It smells like him. A whiff of his cologne, a whisper of sweat from the last chore he did, keeping our home in good repair. I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with him. A glance in the mirror tells me I don't look nearly as cute as I think I do, but I don't care. The shirt hangs open over my clothes, lending me its warmth like arms wrapped around me. His arms. Holding me though he is not near. I pull the fabric tight across my chest.