Flannel in My Pillowcase

I finished brushing my teeth and yelled goodnight to my mom. I shut my bedroom door and turned off the light. Climbing in under the covers, I smiled. Reaching inside my pillowcase, I felt the soft flannel of my boyfriend's shirt.

My mom stuck her head in my door as she did every night to say goodnight back. All looked normal and peaceful. She closed my door softly and I knew I was safe to finally pull the plaid shirt out of my pillowcase and hug it.

I breathed in the aroma, a mix of his laundry soap, deodorant, and the musky smell that was all him. The best part was, it was a gift. Some girls ask, some girls take, but he gifted his shirt to me to remember him by. I pictured him working hard in his uncle's mechanic's shop, his summer job since he was strong enough to lift a monkey wrench. He was good enough now to actually get paid for it.

She fingered the small oil stain at the hem, barely visible in the dark room. Being a mechanic was not a flaw as her parents thought. It added character, like this stain.