On my way up the stairs, I noticed my sweatshirt was gone. I left it in the same spot every night. And each morning, I slipped it on, even if I wasn’t cold. The renewed Jack smell on it was enough to get me out of bed each morning. He could lie till he was blue in the face. But I knew the truth. He was taking it to bed with him each night. Doing exactly what I was doing each morning.
