In the quiet of her home, a recently widowed woman finds solace in her own touch. She sits alone, her mind filled with memories of her late husband, as she begins to stroke herself, her fingers dancing over her moistening slit. Her breath hitches as she thinks of their past encounters, her body responding to the ghosts of his touch. She leans back, her other hand cupping her breast, pinching her nipple as she yearns for the release only her own hand can provide.