Hi Rayne,
I decided to read this one simply because you're right, a scent, a song, or something similar can always take you back to a certain memory.
I thought this was beautiful and heartfelt. It's difficult to remember when you've lost someone so special.
I did however make note of a few things below. I've also made some comments or suggestions. Remember they are completely up to you to use or not.
I shuffle my way through a Sears department store, thinking silently to myself that although it's coming up to a year, it still feels fresh. This still feels: (remove the colon) different walking by myself, without her hand proudly in mine.
If she were here, would she tug at my sleeve like she would (change would to "used") to gentle show her impatience? would (Would) she roll her eyes when I stop to look at the New Years dresses? If she where here, would she tell me what love awaits me when we get back to our home? would (Would) she sing along with the christmas music being played throughout the store?
I make a detour around the Bed n' Bath section and continue slowly past the Fine Fragrances. I spot a familliar bottle on the counter and as my focus narrows to the perfume, I walk slowly over. I'm in my own little world and I know all too well what's about to happen.
(I would put a space here between lines)
Dare I?
(I would put a space here between lines)
I pick up the bottle innocently in my fragile hands. I had stopped paying attention to the music and the atmosphere around me when I first laid eyes on the bottle. I glide my fingers along the contour of the glass and imagine the same shape cradled in her hands.
(I would put a space here between lines)
I can't help it...
(I would put a space here between lines)
I slowly close my eyes as i (I) bring the bottle to my nose. No sooner than I being (begin to) inhale I feel myself being shot back. Back not to a place, but to a feeling, a sence (sense) of completion that my partner bestowed on my very soul. Everyone knows scent is the strongest sense tied to memory. My eyes start to well up at the memory of when her skin smelled faintly of this luxury.
(I would put a space here between lines)
I don't know why I do this to myself.
"Hi there," I hear a gentle voice that pursuades me back to reality. A meek middle-aged sales woman greets me with a questioning look.
(I would put a space here between lines)
"oh..hi..i um..." (Oh...Hi...I um...) I smile, wipe a tear and blush in fear my personal agony has become obvious.
(I would put a space here between lines)
"you (You) like that one?" she says sofly in a singsong voice, I wanted to melt right there and then into a puddle on the floor, but somehow found the strength to stay standing.
(I would put a space here between lines)
"oh...no, i mean yes, i do...it's just..." (Oh...no, I mean yes, I do...it's just...) I look down at the bottle, and grin. I decide not to bother thinking about what's appropriate to say, long-term lesbian relationships aren't as (remove as) uncommon around here. I try to mask my sniffles as I meet her eyes again.
(I would put a space here between lines)
"my (My) wife used to wear this, she's..." my voice weakened, I hated saying it, almost like if I didn't hear it out loud it wasn't really true. "...she's been gone almost a year now, but i (I) can't walk by without...y'know..." I force a smile as I show her which bottle i'd (I'd) been holding. Her expression softens as her joyful christmas confidance had eased into a sympathetic melonchony and for that moment, the stranger joined me while I moured. I thanked her for sales-person-hospitality and placed the fragrance back on the counter.
Slowly the room, the music, the shelves and the items for sale re-appear although in fact they never actually moved. I make my way to the doors and leave the building as alone as i'd (I'd) entered, hoping to myself I can get through the upcoming christmas, and the rest of my life for that matter, without her.
Keep up the great writing!
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