Michelle opens the bottom drawer of Tony's dresser and runs her hand over his t-shirts. Unlike the sheets, they still smell like him. She can hear Jack behind her, the hangers clicking together as he pulls them out of the closet.

This is real. This is final.

She takes a breath before reaching into the drawer and holding the shirts against her chest, getting ready to drop them into the box at her side.

They feel like him too - the soft cotton brushing against her cheek and they're cold without the body heat of their owner. She gently places them next to her, not in the box.

"You might like some of these," she whispers to her baby.