Penny's POV
The sun is already up and hitting warmly on my cheek when I stir awake. I blink against the light, stretching across Andrew's bed like a cat before realizing the other side is empty. His pillow still smells like him–clean sweat and faint cologne–and I smile without meaning to.
I sit up and brush my hand over the nightstand, finding a folded sticky note.
Don't miss me too much. Coffee's waiting in the pot. – A.
I bite my lip, hugging the paper to my chest as if it's a gift instead of something scribbled with a ballpoint pen.
"Show-off," I murmur, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
The apartment feels bigger and quieter without him in it. I walk barefoot into the kitchen, my hair is an unholy mess, and I'm still drowning in his black t-shirt that reaches my mid-thigh. Sure enough, the pot is half full, steam rising from the top.
I pour the coffee into a mug and lean against the counter as the silence wraps around me. Too quiet.
