Summer Breeze

My elbows were at just the right height to rest themselves on the railing of the balcony behind my house. The sinking sun set the suburb rooftops aflame, light dancing over the shingles and flowing into the gutters like red rain. Blair reclined in the cheap beach chair I had brought up there last summer. The Big Lots tag, still attached to the side, swung back and forth with the light breeze that came through to ruffle my hair.

"You're such a good kid," it whispered to me.

"Hey Blair?" No verbal response came, only a simple nod. I didn't have to turn around and face him to see it.

"What's your girlfriend's favorite smell?" The wind stopped altogether for a moment.

"Tierney, I don't have a girlfriend."

"Alright, what about the girl you have in your head?"

"What? Tierney, what the hell are you talking about?" I turned around, and leaned against the glass railing wall, the only thing separating me from a three story fall into a bed of roses.

"You don't have 'the ideal girl' locked away in your memory somewhere?" Blair's face tweaked in confusion.

"Uh, no?"

"Oh."

Neither one of us said anything for a while.

"Summer breeze."

"What?"

"My perfect girl. You asked what her favorite smell was, well there it is: summer breeze."

"What the hell does a 'summer breeze' smell like?" Blair leaned back in the beach chair, sunglasses glinting in what little light was left.

"I have no friggin' idea, man."