I still have your jacket. You know—the one you always wore. The dark green hoodie with the frayed cuffs and the little hole by one of the pockets. The left one. You let me borrow it, that day we went to the beach. It was raining, remember? It was freezing cold and you took off your hoodie and helped me put it on and then zipped it all the way up. You even adjusted the hood and looked at me, with that cute little smile of yours. You said I was too cute. And I just giggled and rolled my eyes. The sweater was a little big but I didn’t mind. You took my hand, the oversized sleeve covering both our hands, and we walked along the soft sand, barefoot and freezing our asses off, the waves dangerously beautiful as they crashed along the shore line a small distance away. I don’t know what we were thinking. I guess were just two crazy kids in love. That’s what they always say. You ask for an explanation for something and they’ll look at you and sort of roll their eyes, like it’s cute or something. Amusing, even. Somehow everything makes sense when you’re in love. If only the same were true now.
You never asked for it back, although it was your favorite. I kept waiting and waiting for you to ask but you never did. Like I said, I still have it. Sometimes I’ll take it out, and I’ll look at it. I’ll remember being snuggled against you, breathing in your scent and you playing with my hair. I’ll remember all the little things. It still smells like you, you know. Just a little bit. Just enough to bring tears to my eyes and make my heart swell. Coffee and cigarettes. The guilty pleasures of your life.
YOU ARE READING
Short Love Stories
RomanceA collection of random short stories I've written over the years. Most are probably full of cheese, you've been warned.
