He could remember exactly what it felt like. The passage of a few years was nothing to him; the moment could have been an hour ago, a month ago, a year ago. But he knew exactly how many minutes had passed and if pressed, might even be able to say how many minutes he had spent relieving that one moment. The soft whisper of her lips against his skin, the warmth of her body, the look in her eyes as she looked back up at him and the taste of her kiss seconds later.
She said cookie dough, quickly got embarrassed by her convoluted metaphor and went to explain her theory about love.
He remembered chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream and suddenly he could taste it again, just like it had tasted on her lips, her tongue, after she had tasted it, licked it off his chest.
He still remembered. She never would.
Comments/Feedback/Blither to glim