Somewhere In Brooklyn

18 - November 20

I've been seeing, hearing, and even smelling a lot of things that remind me of you even though I'm not really sure if those things have a connection to you.

It's just that when I see or hear or smell things, my mind instantly thinks of you.

Like that TV series about werewolves that I started to binge watch again. One of the casts have a red hair like yours.

Like that book series about teenage girls training to be spies that's sitting on my sister's bookshelf. Your school uniform resembles the character's clothes in the book covers.

Like that rose and vanilla scented candles that my mom keeps on buying and putting in our bathroom and living room. I actually have no idea why I think of you when I smell this.

Rose and vanilla. I don't even know if you smell like that.

I've always imagined you'd smell like strawberry because of your hair. Sometimes, I wonder what it would smell like if I bury my face in the crook of your neck. Would your scent still be like strawberry even with sweat covering your soft skin? Would you still smell like rose and vanilla even with the room is filled with heavy breaths and musky sin?

Shit. No, no, no. Not again. No, I shouldn't be thinking like this. I shouldn't be thinking what you smell like. I shouldn't be thinking of you like that.

I'm so sorry.