The way you smell has been deeply ingrained in my mind. A gust of wind is enough to make me look around. Is it you? Are you here? It's that distinct mixture of freshly-washed clothes and hard liquor. It hits me and my brain zeroes in to every memory of you that I didn't even notice before.
A guy seated next to me smells like you, and I die a little inside - remembering the last time you were this close to me. It's like I can feel your breath on my neck again, your fingers drawing circles at the back of my hand. It must be your scent that keeps me hostage to your memory, like a magical smoke enchanting me to your toxic presence.
We try our best to ignore each other, to pretend that nothing is wrong, that nothing ever happened. But I pass by you, and your scent consumes my whole being, intensifying every emotion, from safe to scared to confused to lost.
I break down, because I know, there's a part of me you already own.
Yes, that title is from Sam Smith's Stay With Me. No, it doesn't have anything to do with what I wrote above personally, but it adds a nice touch, doesn't it? Let's all pretend this is a love story. It's not.