I still remember his smell. It’s been four months. But I still remember it. Actually I can fool my olfactory senses into believing that I can actually smell him when I think of him. His fresh soap smell mixed with his deodorant and his sweat for having come running all the way from his room to see me. And the smell of nicotine on him... I used to feel nauseated when someone on the streets walked past me with the smell of tobacco... On him, I just loved it... to the point of loving the smell of cigarettes. And his hair... the way it used to be wet when i run my fingers through his hair because he'd come to see me only after showering even if it were 1:00am.
His quirks and obsessions... the way he used to dread love bites, not that any would show on his ebony dark body. He just freaked out if I parted my lips a little and I loved it. I delighted in his oddities and he in mine. Or that's what I thought. That’s what I like to think. After a month of passionate nights and intellectual conversations we just stopped happening. I’ve never seen him in day light. I don’t like to contemplate on whats and whys. They make me sad. Am happy it happened. I look at his name in my phonebook and resist the urge to call. I’ve moved on. Made new friends. Met people. But when I think of him, I can smell him. Still.

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