Fiction: Finding Things…Again

She finally made it to the cabinet on his side of the bathroom sink.  It smelled like him in there.  His deodorant, his cologne.  His hairbrush.  She inhaled him.

Bombarded again by pictures, she sat down on the edge of the bathtub.  High school.  Lunch hour.  He’d been about to kiss her, for the very first time, when his friends waved a Frisbee.  He tossed her his shirt.  It smelled like him.  Like he would smell for the rest of his life.

She didn’t get that kiss for ten more days.  When she did, it came with a tiny diamond.

Her chest hurt.  Heaved.  She slid to her knees on the floor.

In the last five weeks, she’d found him everywhere.  In his closet.  In the kitchen.  She heard his voice late at night, watching movies until she didn’t know she’d gone to sleep.  She’d even held his keyring in her mouth because her arms were full, and tasted the smell of his hands.

She gagged.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she felt him near, again.  One flesh as they’d always been.  Her soul and his turned together like rope.  Through and through.

She trembled as she brushed her teeth.  The math was simple.

And she remembered.

That first kiss was long and slow.  It was the moment she married him.  Not in the white church.  Not in the suite at the bed and breakfast in the mountains.  Right there in the living room in front of her brother.  She married him.

She patted her face with the towel.  She met her eyes in the mirror.  She was blushing.

Their last kiss, 36 days ago, had gone straight through her soul. Again.  She renewed her covenant.  And broke a picture frame.

She laughed.

He was still here.

 

This Friday Fiction is a continuation of a story you’ll find here in Part One.

Comments

  1. You are so good. =)

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