That night, he went to Raven's apartment; inhaled the gentle scent of her soap that lingered in the air. She had so few things; he'd forgotten how sparsely she kept her rooms. He found her carton of cigarettes, always hated her habit, told her it would kill her.
He had never smoked before, and the smoke stifled his lungs, compressed them. He puffed outside the window, listening to traffic and the people on the streets. When he'd finished, he flicked the butt onto the sidewalk and turned to her bed. He fell asleep, hugged the pillows more than he used them. He's never slept so soundly and he never will again.
