Scatterbrainy

I pick up the round jar, not without knowingly admire it with a faint smile.
As you might when recognizing someone that you don't really know.

I open it, scoop up some of the cream and strart rubbing it onto my palms.
Just for a split second, the scent throws me off and I remember him.
From a time when I always used to smell like this and always, incessantly thought of him.

Contemplating the mysterious ways in which the world works, I put the lid back on. My hands are a little softer now, even if I am not. And the scent will soon be gone again.