When I step out onto the sidewalk, I’m confused about the weather. The air doesn’t feel anything like the brutal 20 degrees I suffered this morning, and I start to feel a little ridiculous in my sparkly scarf and cozy knit hat. But it’s not egregious enough to go all the way back into the office to put them back, so. Whatever.
It feels delicious to stretch my sore legs and feel the fresh city air fill my lungs, so I can’t help but smile at the other pedestrians I pass on my way to the coffee shop. We’re all out experiencing the simple beauties of life together, even as strangers. A woman in a purple scarf takes a puff of her cigarette as she leans against a large sign in front of the parking lot and the scent takes me by surprise in its richness. Damn, that smells good.
Combined with the unexpected warmth in the air, the cigarette smoke suddenly reminds me of late autumn, and I remember standing on the street outside the bustling dive bar.
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then = 10 20 2024
My lover greets me on the sidewalk and eagerly pulls me into his arms. I’m practically vibrating with excitement to see him, and even though I’m aware we’re in a public place, I tilt my head up to give him a quick kiss hello.
Our lips meet and I can feel both of us suddenly connecting directly to the earth, some subtle alignment in our magnetic fields that orients the very center of our beings in the right direction again. I breathe him in, bracing myself to let him go for the sake of decency. But the moment I do, the smell and taste of him dominates my senses and instead of letting go, I find myself pulling him closer.
My fingers curl into his hair like a snake coiled around prey as I try to breathe him in even more, tasting him as much as I can without actually using my tongue. He returns the kiss ardently, but then breaks away, clearly not under the spell my mind is falling victim to. His eyes are warm with love, his cheeks rosy with a drunken blush as he smiles down at me.
What the hell? I gasp. Why do you smell so good?
His face crinkles in amusement, like he knows something I don’t. Well, it’s probably because I smoked a cigarette, babe…
I blink at him once. Twice. Four times. Oh my god. I laugh strangely, trying to disguise the embarrassment creeping across my scalp. Oh my god, you’re right. That’s exactly it. The giggles then bubble all the way up my throat and we both crumble into laughter. He kisses me again, and I can place that hypnotizing flavor now–not too sour, but earthy and bold, comforting and masculine. Carcinogens aside, the scent suits him well. Finally, after one last kiss, he places his arm around my waist and guides me into the bar.
Method of Mancy 