Often we can forget what power that scent can hold. The amount of comfort it can provide in hard times.
I love many different scents.
Jasmine. Clean linen. Gasoline. Freshly cut grass. Cinnamon. Sandalwood.
But none of those provide the same comfort that this scent gives right now. As my stomach clenches with the weight of the concept of "too much" (something it unfortunately is far too familiar with, as I lack proper self control) I bury my face deeply into the fabric, drawing from it the aroma of you and imagining your company. It's faint now — Something I worry to flee me altogether. I fear I'll be scrabbling at the fibers for the smallest whiff of familiarity. It's faint, but it's still there.
It smells like home.
It hurts less.
I grow drowsy again.
I think this might be my favorite smell.
