And I always had that comforter to remember her by. Because I know it had a chunk of her soul stitched into it.And now, it was years later, eight days...before Christmas, a Saturday morning. The ground was covered in snow, and I could see a couple of huge icicles hanging down from the roof through the partially opened curtains. I was on my side, two pillows under my head, my knees bent, and the covers were up to my chin. I was comfy-cozy under my comforter.It didn't hurt that there was an arm. I didn’t move for a moment, feeling my warm inner flesh, drawing out that first touch. I was tight inside myself, my upright position not meant for penetration. Keeping my arm still, I shut my eyes, reveling in the feel of my smooth sex. I imagined Ava was feeling me. Considering my hand in the second person, pretending it wasn’t wired to my thoughts but someone else’s, someone dying to get me off in this quiet little coffee shop.I held onto my moan and let out an exhale, the tip of my finger. More

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