March Slice of Life Story Challenge
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The scent was overpowering. It’s perfume conversant and familiar. I have inhaled this scent before. I have breathed it in. I have lived it. I know this scent, it is branded in my memory. I feel this scent, his scent.
It’s a pungent strong smell that conjures vivid snapshots of days gone by. It grabs hold of me and blankets my senses. Aqua Velva after shave, alcohol-not just alcohol but stale, old alcohol, like that in the bottom of a bottle discarded from last night’s party; and smoke.
It was the smoke that made me pause, that interrupted my senses. It circled me with its limitlessness and the splintering of nostalgia. It’s the kind of smoke that clings to clothing and clutches a hand that held it for far too many years. I could feel this smell- this essence of him.
I knew he was close, and I strained to reach him, to see him.
It was then I woke, stretching to reach him. The smell-his smell lingering in my mind. But I knew he wasn’t there, couldn’t be.
He’s been gone far too long.
But that scent, his smell- in my mind, in my dreams.
Or was it?