Like a cold, damp basement, the air surrounding me wrapped it's cold and gripping claws around my throat. I opened my mouth, my mind racing, begging for a word, any word to come out. The stale, raw air invaded my nose, causing me to choke. Those eyes, both steely and murky, the color of a swamp, glare stonily back at me. They are endless and deep. I used to fall into those eyes, let them swallow me up and drown in them, but I feel no desire to do so now. Those marshy eyes cut through me, as if seeing my thoughts, my very soul.
My breaths have become shallow, causing the sharp, nauseating smell to overpower all my senses. My mind has become sluggish. Even reaching out for you, wading through the murky water surrounding me, suffocating me, feels like it takes forever. Then the waters recede and the world rushes back as you slap my hand away. I blink stupidly, staring at the spot you stood not moments ago as you walk to the door. My legs lose their ability to hold me upright and my chest tightens, as if some immovable weight has settled upon it, and I sink to the floor.
The scent still lingers, even without your presence. My heart thumps painfully in my breast as I realize the scent will forever surround me, and I will always feel dirty, old, worthless.
