Her Flannel Shirt
Disclaimer: This is in response to Literaryelle's (from GSRDrabbles) prompt of the week, Flannel Shirt. I own nothing. CSI's not mine.
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With each passing day, Grissom grew more withdrawn, more desperate. Everything reminded him of her - at the lab, and at home.
Sara brought life to it. She didn't paint the walls beige and there weren't new cushions or crochet carpets (she wasn't fond of them. Besides, she already loved his deco). But there were photos of them together, post-it notes on the fridge, her scarf on the sofa, her robe in the bathroom, scented candles, a dog...
"Her clothes in the closet. Her flannel shirt! She'd never leave it, the only object she's attached to. She will return, if only to get it back. But what if she comes for it and I'm not here?"
He took it, folded it neatly and put it in a cotton bag, which he put inside his kit. If he had the shirt, she would have to see him at least one more time.
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I'm glad I found this site, it's very cool! this is my very first drabble here, I hope you like it.