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Description
It's a little too warm in here for a late spring afternoon. She's close; so close. Sometimes, when she shifts, you lose focus momentarily, and her image doubles. She insists on looking into your eyes, regardless of the topic, but your eyes keep drifting to her smile, and that little crease that appears on her upper lip when she does so. Her smile isn't particularly strong or wide, it's just she has a very generous mouth, and it rests easily on her face. Her glasses occasionally catch the light from the window, making you squint from the sudden brightness in the darkened room. When it does, she tends to deepen her smile a bit, and make a small chirp of amusement, no matter how many times it happens. She may be doing it on purpose.

There is that small dustiness smell faintly in the back, that comforting smell that always reminds you of a plush, comfy bed. When the breeze trails in occasionally, you get a scent of lilacs from the yard. You know the lilacs won't be around long, maybe a couple of weeks, so you breathe deeply when the air shifts. When you do, you catch her aroma; a slightly stronger smell of strawberries and cream; the lotion she uses daily. Her breath is just faintly sour, probably from the tea she drank earlier. She leans slightly closer to look at your left eye, and her mixed aura sinks deep into, combining with the shift in focus, and the adjusted weight on your chest, you have the momentary dizziness of deja vu. You'll never forget her, or this moment.

The memory is already hazy, skewed by time and perception. Of course it happened, all those years ago. It's not as sharp of a picture as you'd hoped it would be, but strawberries and cream will always bring the memory back, sharp and immediate.

You wonder; does she remember that day like you did?

Does she remember you?

Description
It's a little too warm in here for a late spring afternoon. She's close; so close. Sometimes, when she shifts, you lose focus momentarily, and her image doubles. She insists on looking into your eyes, regardless of the topic, but your eyes keep drifting to her smile, and that little crease that appears on her upper lip when she does so. Her smile isn't particularly strong or wide, it's just she has a very generous mouth, and it rests easily on her face. Her glasses occasionally catch the light from the window, making you squint from the sudden brightness in the darkened room. When it does, she tends to deepen her smile a bit, and make a small chirp of amusement, no matter how many times it happens. She may be doing it on purpose.

There is that small dustiness smell faintly in the back, that comforting smell that always reminds you of a plush, comfy bed. When the breeze trails in occasionally, you get a scent of lilacs from the yard. You know the lilacs won't be around long, maybe a couple of weeks, so you breathe deeply when the air shifts. When you do, you catch her aroma; a slightly stronger smell of strawberries and cream; the lotion she uses daily. Her breath is just faintly sour, probably from the tea she drank earlier. She leans slightly closer to look at your left eye, and her mixed aura sinks deep into, combining with the shift in focus, and the adjusted weight on your chest, you have the momentary dizziness of deja vu. You'll never forget her, or this moment.

The memory is already hazy, skewed by time and perception. Of course it happened, all those years ago. It's not as sharp of a picture as you'd hoped it would be, but strawberries and cream will always bring the memory back, sharp and immediate.

You wonder; does she remember that day like you did?

Does she remember you?