The mentols she smoked, it was the most comforting smell to me. Sometimes i could still smell them when I start to think i on the road to finally getting over her.
I couldn't walk past the kitchen for a long while, i had stopped eating to avoid the fridge, but the worst thing was the walls. I had to paint over them before i was even comfortable being in there again.
We'd painted them together all those year ago.
Why she chose that horrendous color, i'd never know. I even tried convincing her to go for something softer on the eyes but she insisted and that's what it became.
It was early mornings with her parents, the pancakes she made us eat every time I'd spend the night.
It was the hoodie I'd always manage to steal from her. No matter how many times i'd wash it, the smell never faded. Sometimes I forget i have it because it's so far in the back of my closet but some days i just happen to stumble across it when i'm not paying attention.
Whenever i see it i always think about our day in the rain, cuddling under the giant pine to keep warm and dry. That was one of my favorite memories with her.
It was the notes i had left in her Locker to be cliche. She thought it was the most romantic thing but i could never work up the courage to tell her it was me. I wonder how differently our lives would've played out had i confessed.
YOU ARE READING
Colors of Our Youth
Short Story- a color for every emotion you've ever made me feel, hue for every memory, and a shade for every moment I've wasted on you.
