George
I inhale her scent, somehow realizing it's something I never did enough in the past. She smells like something delectable... What is it? I can't place it. Has this been what she always moved through the world wearing? A scent so tricky to my nose? A scent that reminds me of rainy days in the house where cookies were baked or a full turkey would be brined.
This woman was my wife for three years. How, as I move into her space, am I unable to find the smell I can't remember in the house?
It's not a common one. It's not like those meals, the desserts, or even her hair products. Those were sweet-smelling. I remember that much, seeing as I'd f**k her after she lathered her hair and dug her nails into my shoulder.
I turn my neck to the side at this, closing my eyes as the memory rushe
