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Chapter 15: Snowdrops

last update Last Updated: 2024-11-19 13:53:32

It is a curious thing, the scent of memory. It drifts you back to your childhood like the wind sweeping the snowflakes to your open window.

Just by the scent of the flowers on my bedside table, I can still remember the last thing a childhood friend of mine gave me before he was forever gone in my life—and they have the same scent as the flowers that greeted my morning.

I think he was seventeen and I was five when we met. But he looks younger, like how a twelve-year-old looks like. I remember him saying that I made him feel as if he was still ten years old. I make him feel seven years younger.

I can’t remember his face nor his name. But I can still remember the feelings: the feelings I have when we play or roll in the grass and talk about silly things. The feelings of comfort he made me feel when I was kicked by Elodie or slapped by my father. It was to him and the cottage whom I run to every time my family treated me as a piece of shit. When he was
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