I still catch your scent on things every so often.
Isn't that dumb?
But they're things that have nothing to do with you.
Like my roommate.
Or a complete stranger.
Or this one corner of my desk.
Not one of your old T shirts
(because you never gave me one).

I hate these strangers and desk corners for smelling like you.
How dare they remind me of such euphoria?
My nostrils fill with the scent of laundry, soap, cotton, and loyalty.
******* loyalty.
My eyes flutter closed
My brain fuzzes
The corners of my mouth turn up slightly
And I expect to see you in front of me
And feel your flannel against my cheek
And your dry, cracking fingers against my palms.
But you aren't there.
I get disoriented for a moment.
I spritz. Sanitize. Breath deeply.
Avoid that stupid desk corner
Because I'm sick of being reminded that I'm still in love with you.