Don't own anything. I first learned about sense memories in drama class, we smelled candles and took notes about what we felt.
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"Sense memory." A memory triggered by a smell, a taste, a touch, a sound, or a sight.
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"Can I come over? It...it might help." Daley's voice was warm and a bit staticky on the other end of the phone.
I sighed, kind of breathless. Lately I had been feeling like a huge weight was on my chest. "Yeah...yeah, sure."
It was a sleepover, but not a sleepover, not a real one. I was lucky to have her there for me, I know that, it was just so...hard. To be normal when everything was so upside-down.
We just kind of sat around talking. She was a great listener, she let me know who to come to if I wanted to talk, but at the same time respected that I didn't want to yet. That I couldn't. So we just kind of sat there, eating popcorn, watching TV that was just background noise to me. She wasn't surprised when I went to bed at ten instead of staying up till three or something like girls are supposed to.
We had done nothing, yet I laid down like I had just run a marathon. Twice.
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Day was understandably bored after I went to bed. She wasn't tired yet, I didn't expect her to be. She probably just stayed in the living room. At about midnight I woke up to the sound of the chair softly scraping against the floor just outside my door.
A sound.
I opened my eyes slowly and saw the blue glow of the computer switch on, illuminating a shadow and casting its dim light onto the floor.
A sight.
The chair scraped back again as my sleep-fogged senses heard the microwave beeping. The door popped open and the smell of popcorn wafted down the hallway.
A smell.
What was going on finally registered to me. This was a night just like all the others -- I'd go to sleep whenever, but always be awakened by the familiar senses of someone making a snack and going on the computer. That someone, the one with insomnia, the one that always did this, this little routine. The one I loved and had no idea was so important until it stopped. The one that would never wake me up at night like this again.
I felt so alone. Still half-awake, I reached up my arms, expecting to feel someone there. It didn't make sense to my brain -- where was he? He always came if I lifted up my hands.
A touch.
I let out a whimper. What was happening?
Daley must have heard it. She jumped up from the chair and walked swiftly into the room.
"Oh, Mel." she said softly, seeing me there. She knew enough not to hug me -- instead she grasped my hands and slowly lowered them back to the blanket.
"Time to go back to sleep, Mel." she said softly.
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Sense memory. A memory triggered by a smell, a taste, a touch, a sound, a sight, or simply the glow of a computer against a hardwood floor.