the wind is chilly, sou'wester skimming in, fresh from ice and snow. tentative touch to the mirror - it's freezing, could shatter with pressure. outside, the concrete is slick with ice. the setting sun's easy to miss.
If I were to give up one sense, I'd give up smell. I don't wear perfume often, though I would miss it. I'd also miss the one Mum usually wears, she's been wearing it as long as I can remember and it's something I associate with her. Not having the sense of smell would also… Continue reading A Sense For a Sense