peachpenumbra@googlemail.com
22/05/10
I love the smell of my room when I’ve been away for a short while. The flowers on the sill will have wilted a little, and perhaps a few petals will be shed when I lean past them to draw the curtains aside and push open the windows. This new breeze will loosen the fine dust from my bookshelves, the arrangement of volumes slightly foreign after a brief exile, and the memory of my last night spent here will settle as these motes do. My sheets will feel crisp and slightly damp, and I’ll sink into them cold and sure.
