It was a simple thing. It was unconcious and, apparently, a natural thing to do. I had dropped the green mottled wrap on the ground while I was making one of my usual high-energy orations, and all you did was snatch it up before it became desperately dirty and trampled. I never noticed it was gone let alone that you’d captured it, but as I continued my story somehow you caught my eye.
“What are yo-dude. Are you smelling my scarf?” I asked while I eyed you a little sidelong. Without skipping a beat, without blushing and without embarassment, you explained that it smelled nice. And that was the end of that.
As opposed to dwelling on it and causing a scene right there, I have instead been dwelling on it on my own and causing a general scene in my head. Was it equivalent to smelling a girl’s hair or was it truly just that it smelled good? It was seperated from my person, so it’s easy to pretend that it had nothing to do with me personally… but you clearly knew it was mine.
Hm. Sincerely, Pokey