Anchored To a World Beyond
The coat he handed her smelt faintly of cigarettes. Instead of wrinkling her nose and holding it primly between her thumb and forefinger as she might have done somewhere else, in someone else's life – she pressed it to her face. The sweet scent of leather and tobacco mingled together, asking her where she'd been, they're been waiting so long. It was then that Rakka understood the strange gift he intended toward her. Though she already had one coat and this "new" one was ratty and patched and had obviously seen much better days – it was another memory. A cloud of dust settled on one nostril and she pulled away briefly, covering her mouth and nose with one empty hand. He smiled and retrieved the coat, shaking it out and folding it neatly for her to take back to Old Home. He halted when he felt the barest of caresses on his left cheek. Rakka pulled away from the chaste kiss she had given him, lightly poking his headphones jokingly to ease the tension she had caused. He snapped out of his still state and placed the rest of the clothes in a small bag. When she smiled and walked away, it was a while before he had recovered himself enough to turn his radio back on. One thought fluttered through his head a moment before the music blocked it out;
"Maybe – maybe I should take up smoking..."
And then the moment was just another memory, tied to scent and feel and sight and sound and – hopefully, someday – taste.