Brain Sketch #3
No story. Just a brain sketch.
Rose-Scented Dream
I got up one morning with the scent of roses on my mind. It lingered in my memory for quite a while, and didn’t leave me alone until after I had brushed my teeth with the strong mint toothpaste I’d bought from Benison’s twelve days before. Throughout the day, I was confounded by the reason for that smell. There was no garden near my two-story bungalow, and a quick consultation with the map of the surrounding area told me that there was no field for at least 3 leagues around. All my neighbours were like me, people who had been born and brought up in a town without plants or flowers, growing up in a barren landscape where even blades of grass and clumps of moss were rare. There were no gardens, no trees, and definitely no flowerpots in this area. Yet, the scent of roses lingered in my mind, following me like a guardian angel I had given up on long ago.
