The smell of your skin lingers on me now.

I can't recall a time in my life that it's ever physically hurt to breathe.
Until last night.

As if I hadn't already had enough reminders of him over the past few weeks, last night really topped it all off. Made every other reminder seem stupid.

I was at the movies, the lights had finally dimmed and everyone settled into a seat when it hit me. Faint at first, then grew stronger.

The scent of cologne. His cologne. And mint gum. Which, I'm sure, was half of the theater's male population bringing their girlfriends on a date.

But it smelled like him.
Driving in his car.

It smelled like falling asleep on his bed, lost in a mess of pillows and my head on his chest. Whatever cologne was still on him, mixed with the mint scent from the pack of gum he left open on the nightstand right next to him.
It smelled like waking up in his arms. Sheets tossed over us and thick black curtains over his window to block out the sun so we could sleep in.

It smelled like him coming over, laying on my bed, telling me his life story.

It smelled like him.

Vulnerable. Beautiful. Broken.

I guess he was the kind of broken I couldn't fix.

...But I've got to get a move on with my life.
It's time to be a big girl now.
And big girls don't cry.