A Valentine’s Memory
Analía breathed in the fragrant steam of the bath, her heart fluttering with a familiar, bittersweet anticipation. Today was Valentine’s Day. As she glided her soapy hands over her curves, she closed her eyes and imagined they were his hands—Sergio’s strong, sure touch. She could almost feel his lips tracing the line of her jaw, his breath warm against her skin.
Standing before the mirror, she wrapped herself in a plush towel. From a jewelry box, she retrieved a small bottle of Sergio’s cologne. A few drops on her wrists and neck were enough to bring him back to her. The scent was a bridge to the nights they spent tangled in silk sheets, where every touch was a silent vow of devotion.
She dressed in a slip of crimson lace, the fabric clinging to her skin like a second, more daring layer. As the moon rose, she poured two glasses of wine, leaving one across the table. Though the seat remained empty, the air felt thick with his presence, a ghostly embrace that whispered of a love that refused to fade.