I held on.
Small fingers pressed into the deep ravines above his collarbone.
Face buried in the back of his shirt.
Alcohol and dryer sheets. I breathe deep.
It smelled like him and her.
Long nights and hard fights.
Crying. Spit flying.
Words landing where fists hadn’t.
Passion that made the bedroom wall vibrate against my ear.
The rattle of aspirin.
Soft cooing and concealer.
Intoxicating kisses between loads of laundry.
It smelled like manhood.
It smelled like love.