Scent (bp coyle)

‘I like your smell.’ That’s what she said.

Not sure why exactly. I have never gone in for fancy Cologne or the like. And it was strange, now that I think back on it. I had never had a woman tell me that she liked my smell before.

Every time we were together she would sniff me. Walking along by the canal or in the park. Every time we made love in her bed. Sitting together in a movie theatre.

She would steal my t-shirt while I was showering before I left her apartment The one I had been wearing would have been replaced by the one she had taken yesterday. She slept with it on the pillow beside her. I would wear the previous one home and clean it. The cycle would continue.

Until one day she forgot. The t-shirt on the chair was the one I had recently removed. I said nothing. She remembered the next time, so that was fine. Except that more and more times she did not take it. And she started to sniff me less and less. I guess that was how it all began to end.

One forgotten detail at a time.

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