The air felt crisp and smelled of damp earth.
Emma woke to sunlight streaming through her curtains, the kind of light that made everything look possible. She lay in bed for a while, watching dust motes dance in the air, listening to the city wake up.
Nick's sweater was on the floor. She had kicked it off in her sleep.
She picked it up. She held it to her face.
It still smelled like him.
She put the sweater on.
---
At 9:00 AM, Emma made breakfast.
Eggs. Toast. Coffee. She ate slowly, sitting by the window, watching a bird build a nest in the tree across the street. The bird carried twigs in its beak, one at a time, patient and persistent.
That's what I'm doing, Emma thought. Building something. One twig at a time.
She didn't know what she was building.
But she was building it any
