Fan Friday!

Strawberry Shampoo

She told me she hated the smell of it. I didn’t mind it. I actually liked the smell. It meant I was near her. It was the smell of some sort of strawberry-scented shampoo she always used. She said the smell bothered her because it was too strong, too fake. Maybe like the way I thought I loved her? I remember lying next to her, running my hands through her fine, soft hair, the smell permeating the air, covering my hands, whilst I tried to convince myself I really loved her with all my might. Afterwards, the scent clung to my hands, just like I began to cling to her. I had always asked if she ever minded my hands running up and down her body, but I had never dared to ask if she wanted them too. I was too scared of her saying no. But like that strawberry scent that wafted through the air, it wasn’t long until any misconception of love that held us together faded. She said that I had been good to her, as good as any man can be. But she just didn’t love me anymore. She wasn’t sure if she had loved me like that at all. Bags packed, she left that night, for God knows where. I’d like to say I hunted up and down the streets howling with rage, looking for her, either to win her back, or to kill her, or both. But I didn’t. I knew she was right. She left without incident, and like the smell of her shampoo slowly diffusing through the air, any semblance of emotion I had left after that slowly drifted away. So now I just lie in bed, occasionally wondering if there is still some remnant of her signature scent still seeping from the sheets we once shared, or if perhaps just like the woman who bore it, the scent of strawberries has left my life too. Hopefully when you find my body, you’ll find this note too. And if anyone bothers to care, tell her that I did love her, but perhaps just not in the way I should have. Tell her that I wanted to love her as a friend at the end, just like I should have at the beginning.

 -Josh