It danced around the sweltering heat, amidst the movement of bodies swaying endlessly and vaguely, hypnotized to the loud, constant, booming of the music.
Tantalizing and achingly familiar, it reached her as she raised her arms and tossed her hair in time to the beat. For a moment, her thoughts were shut and empty. Only the mere essence of what had swiftly reached her through the darkness, sounds and movements were allowed entry into her subconsciousness.
Then it hit her, like a violent trigger setting into motion another threat to stability and sanity. She stood still for a moment, oblivious to everything and everyone around her, before taking a deep breath.
Yes. It was still there.
The smell of him. His scent, his cologne. Strange that it should have reached her despite the unknown number of people with various perfumes and fragrances, all infused with sweat from the heat, or from dancing, or from intense interactions with another soul. She took another breath, and surely enough, the scent was still there.
He was still there. With her. Haunting her with the power of his memory, his past.
Their past.
She remembered resting her head on his shoulder on cold rainy nights, when they’d sit on the couch and pass the time telling each other every mundane detail about their day, because when you’re in love, every little bit would sound interesting and absorbing, as long as those words were given life only by the person whose fingers are entwined with yours, whose are arms are circled protectively around you, or whose shoulder you love resting your head on.
She would close her eyes and breath in him, all of him. Then she’d sigh contentedly as she’d feel his arms tighten around her.
It was a clean smell, the smell of the ocean as the fresh waves collide inevitably with the already soaked rocks. It wasn’t strong and demanding, unlike other men who gave the impression of too much ardour for their masculinity. The scent she loved was a gentle one, subtle, yet coaxing, just like her man.
But just as the wind cannot sit still, and Time cannot wait, everything ended and moved on. Days filled with love and promises of thousands of tomorrows slowly faded into the breeze, carried away into some place she’ll never be again, until all that remained was cool, empty air.
And so was the fate of that swift scent, which thinned and bade farewell, giving way to yet another wave of air, carrying with it reminders and remnants of a another woman’s love.
With much determination, she willed herself to be strong against the sudden attack of Memory. She willed her other senses to take control of her, to help her forget. She opened her eyes and let the darkness engulf her, she let the music cover her ears and dictate the beating of her heart, she felt the heat on her skin, from herself and everyone around her dancing with Life.
And she let her body move, careless and graceful, her hands reaching out into no where in particular. To no one in particular, for the rest of the night.
