Once upon a time there was a girl who fell in love with a boy. He was no ordinary boy. He was handsome. He smelled good. She liked that smell. Whenever she thought of him, the smell appeared.
He had a nice smile too. It was seducing. Maybe she fell on that.
He had small thick fingers. Not masculine one. Although, she liked it. When he wasn't around she would imagine all the things he could do with his fingers: touching her hair, backs, lips. Touch has a memory. A memory she could not erase from her inner senses.
Sometimes she would go to a local cosmetic shop searching for perfume he might have use. She never find out which one it was. She would presumed.
He still smells.
He's still smiling.
He does have same hands.
He's not there anymore.
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