Smell

<  Smell

“Listen,” she said. “Smells are very important to me.”

“What do I smell like?” I asked, standing in the kitchen, my fingers interlocked on top of my head.

She stepped closer to me and put her tattooed-arms around me and pressed her face against my T-shirt and inhaled deeply.

“You smell like the playground across the street from me when I was still young and innocent.” She inhaled again. “And like warm hugs. And lazy Sundays in.”

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