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The Scent of Time Chapter 1  

silverforgold 68M
0 posts
2/24/2022 11:50 am

Last Read:
2/24/2022 12:12 pm

The Scent of Time Chapter 1

The Scent of Time
Chapter 1

Have you ever experienced an encounter with someone where you suddenly feel something and turn or look up and see someone looking you. There can be a recognition that is taking place on a level that is always accessible but never really reaches our awareness until that moment.
Conversely you may be looking at someone and suddenly they look up at you as if they felt you touch them.There can come with it, a kind of knowing, perhaps an exchange of a smile. Ideas like a past life might come to mind.
That was how I met her.
I was just going about my business of the day. It was early in the evening when I stepped into the bookstore.
I like bookstores knowing there are all these voices under the covers, telling their stories. So many experiences to share.They wait on shelves relegated to categories that might describe what they have to offer.You can almost hear them if you listen hard enough.
Realities within a universe of words forming worlds to explore.
I like to walk down the side streets of shelves reading the titles.
Opening my senses to see if one of them speaks too me.
That is why first impressions matter. If no one notices you, you will remain isolated and alone on the shelf and your story remains hidden between those on either side of you.
I dont know which happened first exactly. I was engrossed, reading the titles like, The Far Away, Meeting the Tempest, Dreams That Beckon, and I suddenly caught the scent of a fragrance that made me feel like I was somewhere else. Someplace I had been before but I had no idea where it was.
Without thinking or purpose I found myself looking up and turned to my right and there she was standing several shelves away. She had a book in her hands unopened and was looking at me. I felt a calmness of recognition and why, I could not begin to explain. She smiled and I smiled back and then she turned and put the back on the shelf. I felt a kind of energy inside my body. Something woke up. I turned my gaze away for a moment and when I looked up again she was gone.
The intensity of my feelings seem to subside and I just chalked it up to one of those curious experiences that sometimes can happen.
I found that I couldnt concentrate on what I had been doing and so I decided to go to the cafe and get a cup of coffee and write in my journal. I had decided to start keeping a journal in order to help me focus on some of those things that happen every day but often slip by us like wood sprites, so clever at making themselves invisible when we walk in the forest.
I was waiting in line and just listened to the murmur of the large space. I like to do that in many differing circumstances. I just let all the sounds converge, without allowing myself to assign a meaning or describe them. For instance, that was a man coughing, and that was a woman speaking to her , or someone dropped a book.
Instead I just listen to the sound itself. Its pitch and volume, the tenor of its vibration and pull my attention away from understanding any of it.
Similarly I often listen to a crowd of people talking in the same way and willfully prevent myself form knowing what the words mean as if I were in a foreign land and could not speak their language.
The voice of the girl at the counter brought back me to attention, Can I help you sir?
Yes please. I will have whatever is your<b> dark </font></b>roast today.
That would be the Sumatra. Do you need room for sugar and cream?
No Thank you. I replied. I stepped aside to wait for the cup and I looked around the room. There were people of all ages. A couple of students seated at a table nearby with their laptops open, one hand under a chin in support of a head seeking knowledge or perhaps she was checking her email or watching Tic Tok.
There was an old women sitting by herself. She did not seem to be looking at anything in particular. Her hands were in her lap and she just seemed a little sad and alone.
There were two with a women who I assumed was their mother. She appeared to be trying to manage their boundless energy while she tried to rest for a minute as one of them carelessly knocked over his cup and spilled its contents all over her purse.
The chaos of that one small sphere taking its place in the larger surrounding void of human activity. So many worlds..
I picked up the cup with my name misspelled on it, and walked to a vacant table near the window.The snow was coming down a little heavier now. They had been predicting a storm would arrive and things could become a mess during the commute.
I sat down and took the satchel I was carrying off my shoulder. I opened it and pulled out my journal. The cover was an abstract picture, depicting the shadows of some bizarre subconscious dreamscape.
I opened it up to the last entry which read. I have been having this strange feeling all day that something is going to happen. It is not ominous just intense, as if I had encountered a memory of something that has not happened yet.
I laughed at myself thinking , You are always so dramatic.
I held the pen in my hand and looked the window for a moment and stared in between the falling snowflakes, then I looked down the blank page and began to write. I caught the scent of a fragrance that made me feel as if I were somewhere else.......

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