“Sometimes, when the wind blows and catches my hair I feel the touch of his hand upon my cheek. Then I will smell the aroma of burning clove; burning like we had that summer unforgotten. Shortly following, my senses become overwhelmed and my mind runs away with the thoughts of yesteryear. I visualize the still shots and short scenes of a younger I, enthralled in the vanity created with another and of those sad second chances I thought I had time to take advantage of.”
