#memory bottles

What does true love smell like? Does it have a scent? Is it roses, or chocolate, or someone’s perfume? Is it cold rain, or a warm fireside, or a combination of your favorite food and fizzy champagne? Or perhaps it’s a soft, worn sweater that smells exactly like the crook of their neck - their skin, and their hair, and their soap, and their warmth...maybe it’s all of those thing.

Goodness gracious, what on earth has Widget managed to capture in this jar?!

...perhaps it’s the scent of your sparkler-bitten fingers, smelling of gunpowder and almost-blood, and the taste of sweat licked off your upper lip, and said singed fingers, stuck in your mouth to soothe their sting. The sight of a darkened field filled with fireflies, winking through the night, and flickering in your hole-poked mayonnaise jar like glimmering constellations trapped between your hands. The sound of the pattering flicker of playing cards clothes-pinned to bicycle spokes, and the exhilarated screams filling a carnival midway. The prickly almost-burned tingle of hands that clutched the rope swing over the river, cooled by muddy water and a resounding splash, and the electric ozone air before a thunderstorm, and the subtly sudden beginning, with hot raindrops warming and cooling your skin at the same time.