Wonder If You Wonder (sequel to red string)

14

it was a Friday and I had fallen back into the old routine of sitting on the bench. I stared out at the sky, wondering why I could no longer see the shimmering particles of dust in front of my eyes, feel the fresh air expand my lungs.

every breath hurt knowing you hated me.

sometimes the old man would show up and sit with me on the bench. His name was Edward and he used to be a sailor, guiding a ship across the great unknown. He would tell me stories about his adventures. In turn, I told him tales of my adventures. I think he quite enjoyed listening to me.

I expected him to be the one sitting beside me. I expected to smell the faint smell of leather and mothballs, hear the rustle of too many sweaters piled on top of each other at once. Instead, I caught a different scent before it disappeared on the breeze.

the smell of a familiar after shave.