[Morgan shut her eyes, breathed him in. It wasn't quite so intimate as the gesture might have appeared at first glance. He wasn't her. Not all of the memories she had of him were pleasant ones, but they were her memories. It was something for her to grasp onto. But thinking about them made them feel distant. Simpler things, like touch or smell -- those were smaller, but closer. Easier to hold onto.]

If it's over then why don't I feel like me anymore?