She searched for the sweater, and as she felt her hand feel something soft, she held it tight in her grasp, and pulled it out.
Her heart pounding, she held the sweater, and crushed her face into it. She was a fool to think that hiding his sweater, and keeping it down in her closet, would make her get over him any easier.
She carried it to her bed, and as her breathing stabled, she folded the sweater, and used her hands to softly brush over it.
She brought it close to her nose again, and said to herself, even as she took deep breaths to let the smell of his perfume linger long in her,
She would get over him. Someday. She would.
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