Some days you’re sentimental, accepting the rush of emotions. The slightest detail of it drifts you into ecstasy. It’s like you’re out of your body and into the universe you created just for you. Suddenly everything about him feels important. Like the birth mark under his arm and the way his dog wags his tail when he sees you. The way he holds your hands when you’re not looking. The way he sneaks up to hug you from behind so closely to himself that you can smell his christian dior perfume. You recognize it from a distance. You picture scenarios that have never happened and you fast forward them to what you hope they’ll be. But then it never happens. Now he’s far away and you’re feeling nostalgic all of a sudden. You remembered the scented candles he got you when you caught your period and how he reminded you it would make you feel better. You never lit it a single day because you were saving it for the best. You wanted to feel home again. You craved that scent of his so badly. You saved his shirt to sniff it anytime you forgot. But you needed to wash the emotional grease away, the one that kept you falling for someone who just saw you as a best friend. You missed the way he hugged you, always so tightly you couldn’t breathe. But you need to. Soaking yourself in a tub filled with a bubble bath, a lit scented candle in a corner which smells just like home. Just like him. Or maybe you were still picking the old scent before the candle. Your phone close to the sink and its loud playing his favourite album on repeat. You know the words already. You couldn’t wait to show off that. Your hand itches a little remembering some things. You’re closing your eyes. Reminiscing. You’re staying up wondering if he’s okay but he just stops. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember exactly what he felt like when he said he loved you. He looked you straight in the eyes when he said that. It’s always in the eyes, that’s where the talking happens. You’re crying myself to sleep wondering why you never gave both of you a chance to bloom. But in the end, you’re guessing that’s what it really feels like. When you’re in love.

Fiction by Muna Nwokeke

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