“Babe, it’s time to get up,” Emily Parker muttered sweetly, sleepily stretching her arm out to her husband’s side of the bed, searching for his warmth. At the sensation of the crisply cold sheets, her hand recoiled. Flipping back the covers, she sat up and shook her head. After all this time, she still caught herself reaching out for him.
From time to time she would drape herself in one of his shirts or sweaters just to smell his scent and to feel him near for she still missed his crooked smile, the warmth of his strong arms wrapped around her and how glorious he made her feel when they made love. Emily pulled a deep blue hooded sweatshirt off the hanger and shrugged it on, hoping for some emotional comfort. She zipped it up and stuck her hands in the pockets, surprised to feel the crackling of paper in one of them. She pulled out a small folded note and opened it, finding the name Delia and a phone number were scrawled in the cursive penmanship of a woman–who is Delia?