When we were young, she always had a sixth sense when you were near. That tingly, hair-raising, heart-beating awareness would always wrap her up with anticipation just before you would make your appearance. Or perhaps she just had a really keen sense of smell, ferreting out any lingering scent of Export A Gold and those unfiltered pheromones you were always wafting in her direction.
She told me she still senses you. It's still charged with the hopeful edge that someday (someday) your physical selves will collide long into the wee hours of the morning. But it is mostly just a sense that you are in the room. Invisible, but there non-the-less, and aware.
She told me she still senses you. It's still charged with the hopeful edge that someday (someday) your physical selves will collide long into the wee hours of the morning. But it is mostly just a sense that you are in the room. Invisible, but there non-the-less, and aware.
