Madam Secretary Prompt: When Henry leaves to go back to Pensacola after one of his visits, he leaves something behind for Elizabeth to find after he's gone.
Elizabeth shuddered out a breath as she closed the front door, the click of the deadbolt echoing through the sudden emptiness of her apartment. She leaned her forehead against the wood, shoulders trembling, tears sliding down her cheeks.
She was grateful for every moment spent with Henry. She was. She missed him too much to lose that precious hour spent in each other's arms.
But every time he left, the pain grew worse. The emotional roller coaster of Henry's sporadic visits during flight training- anticipation, elation, devastation- stressed her body, to the point she physically hurt. The thought briefly crossed her mind to tell him not to come.
"No. I can't, I can't, I can't," Elizabeth whispered into the silence.
On a deep sigh, she turned for the kitchen, anticipating a sleepless few hours until daylight. Might as well drown her sorrows in ice cream. She paused by the couch to absently straighten a pillow, one of the many shoved to the floor as they'd frantically made love not an hour earlier. But when she raised her hand, Elizabeth realized she wasn't holding a pillow. The material unfolded and slip of paper drifted toward the floor. She grabbed at it.
Elizabeth immediately recognized Henry's handwriting, and her heart stuttered in her chest. She sunk (*sank) to the couch, smoothing the note she'd accidentally crumpled.
Dearest Elizabeth, I find myself missing the smallest details while we're apart: the smell of your lotion, your hair against my face, your laughter in my ear. The softness of your skin under my fingertips. I hope you feel the same, but then hate the thought you are hurting as much as I am.
Her tears flowed freely now, blurring her vision and his words on the page.
I almost feel silly, leaving you this, but maybe then your nights won't seem as endless as mine are without you here with me.
All my love, Henry.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Elizabeth focused on the material clutched between her fingers. A hesitant smile bloomed across her face as she read "United States Marines". Henry's shirt. He'd left it for her. She raised the fabric to her face, burying her nose in its softness. She inhaled once, and then again, more deeply. It smelled like him. It felt like home.
Her sigh wistful this time, Elizabeth turned toward her bedroom, instead.
Maybe tonight wouldn't be so hard, after all.