163. NovaI don’t know how long I sleep. I don't ever think I was asleep. I was just… there, thinking and missing him and reminiscing.

Time dissolves while I’m curled on Roman’s side of the bed, my cheek pressed into the pillow that still smells faintly like him; soap, heat and something uniquely Roman. I clutch it like it’s the only thing anchoring me to this world, my fingers twisted into the fabric as if it might disappear if I loosen my grip. Oh, how I miss him.

My chest hurts. Not ...