In Your Room

I went to your house today.

To look for the charger for your phone I'm borrowing, in your outside room.

I went in my lunch break, only your brother was home - he gave me the key to your room.

I felt a touch overwhelmed to be alone in your room. Your belongings on display, I'm never in that room without you, A strange feeling of loneliness swept over me. I disregarded it and searched in the place you said the charger was. I never found it.

I found a half full lynx body spray you had left behind though - I couldn't resist, I had to smell it. I sprayed a small amount on the top on my hand. You know those moments when you smell something you didn't expect to be so familiar and in an instant it just propels you back to a memory? That's what happened. I was thrown back to the trip home from Waiouru, where I cuddled you the whole way, resting my head on your shoulder. My hand placed on your chest, your hand over mine, keeping it warm. Your hands are always extremely warm regardless of how cold it is. My hands are always cold. I love how you know this too and without questioning you warm them by holding them tightly between your hands, or grabbing my hands and shoving them under your shirt, always followed by a sharp inhale as my hands are like icicles.

With my hands warming up, my eyes feeling heavy, I was 100% content to be close to you again. Every now and then you would turn to me and kiss my on the forehead. My head was buried into your camo print shoulder, you couldn't see my face but I couldn't help but smile and think how lucky I am to get this small amount of time with you.

I got carried away typing there - Anyway, that was the effect smelling "you" had on me.

I continued to smell my hand throughout the day and get that memory come flooding back each time. I was sad when it washed off in the shower.

I hunted around some more for the charger but again, got distracted when I found your notebook from Waiouru (About A5 in size, and completely full of Army jargon) I flicked through it, one whole page was solely dedicated to a triangle pattern which featured some impressive art skills, I smiled. Another page had a drawing of a gun, I will assume you weren't told to draw that, you just got bored.

Another page was dedicated to my postal address.