the earth with the smell of cherry caramel

— Ho, why are you frozen? — the familiar, so familiar and nauseatingly cloying smell of cherry caramels filled everything around, making my head spin. Was he covered by a forgotten memory or is this all happening right now? Whatever it was, the only thing he could think about was "please don't disappear." But with each passing second, the sweet fragrance slipped through the guy's fingers more and more. – Minho, are you all right? He was brought out of his trance. Literally pulled out those dark, like an insurmountable abyss of eyes. The girl's eyes. Brides. The future wife and mother of his children. But those eyes didn't radiate that light. Yes, they were burning. They burned passionately, burning from within, igniting an endless fire. They warmed everything and everyone around them. Yes, according to the law of the genre, there are exceptions in any story. — Lee Minho, wake up already, — unable to stand it, she began to shake the young man, like a vulture clinging to his shoulders. In the shade of tall and old trees, under their rustling foliage, his pupils continue to beat their rhythm. Tobacco. Imbued with notes of astringency and nobility, it spreads in the air like a delicate veil. The smell hovers around like a primordial elixir, revealing its entire stunning palette of flavors in front of your nose. The first notes are spicy, with a hint of fresh pepper, teasing themselves with soft waves. Next, a deep and warm accord of dry and woody resin is revealed, which surrounds with a delightful intensity. This perfect combination is skillfully intertwined with grains of spicy cardamom, adding nuances of elegance and sophistication to the fragrance. Gradually, in the smell of tobacco, sweet motes, reminiscent of vanilla and chocolate, are distinguished. They add tenderness and harmony to the fragrance, creating an image of a perfect refined evening when time freezes and thoughts are carried away into the world of dreams and creativity. Grave earth. Envelops the nostrils with a thin veil, rising with musty steam from under the feet. It's moist and thick, like rotten water in a cemetery pond. It penetrates through the clothes and lies on the skin, like a disgusting ghost of the dead, forever wandering in the world of shadows. This smell is a slow dance of life and death, woven from dust and ashes. After all, he carries the message of the past time. He is full of nostalgia and sadness, his essence is permeated with longing and melancholy. In every molecule lurks a symphony of centuries — the voices of those who have become dust, but not forgotten. This fragrance makes the heart freeze with pain and hidden suffering, it evokes memories of losses and lost opportunities. My mind clouded even more. The sanity that had remained until that moment finally dissolved in this hurricane. A hurricane that only he could feel. A loud sound burning through the skin on the left cheek, which turned out to be a forced slap in the face: — Where are you flying?! The girl was already hysterical because of the disregard on his part. And he just flapped his long eyelashes like a child. — I'm sorry, — he exhaled heavily, rubbed his burning skin, — he was thinking. He looked at her blearily. She was burning from the inside. — We came to visit my grandmother's grave, — she flared up, — why can't you behave adequately even now?! Indifference has come into his manner of speaking, and his answers look dry and arrogant. But that's just her thoughts, isn't it? — I just, — the guy turned his back to his companion again, but facing the truth, again this familiar, such a native and sickeningly sweet smell of cherry caramels filled everything around, making my head spin , — I saw a familiar face.

***

Deep longing and despair envelop his heart, turning his existence into a gloomy, drawn-out journey through the spiritual wastelands. The heavy weight of hopelessness is reflected on his face, which seems to depict a gloomy battlefield sown with bitterness and lost hopes. — Do I have at least a small hope for happiness...? He was whispering softly. Almost soundlessly. But even if he screamed in pain with all his strength, among the hundreds of bodies around him, unfortunately, there is not one with a beating heart. — Depends on how you behave.

The nauseatingly cloying smell of

cherry caramels filled everything around,

making my head spin.

She sat down next to him. A thin or even skinny girl with green eyes and dark hair. Her high cheekbones and neat eyebrows give her an expressive and charming look. And the white sneakers were the same as his — dirty. At first glance, an ordinary schoolgirl. Unfortunately, only from the first. Examining the interlocutor, he noticed a couple of scars on his left cheek, a torn wound on his neck and slashed wrists that could be seen from under the sleeve of a soiled zip. — Huh, — the guy grinned either at his thoughts, or at the stranger's statement, — do you think? — I'm sure. She took out a pack of cigarettes painted with pink cats, which hooked him. He's addicted to fluffy piss lumps. The light smoke that the girl released after another ordeal created an atmosphere of calm and controlled passion, giving moments of peace and wisdom. — What makes you so sure? She exhaled once again: – I'm always sure of everything. – And why is that? — Because I hate to doubt. These words, like an electric current, went through every cell of the body. He was speechless, trying to say something. From the very fucking birth. Any. Absolutely any choice he made, any decision he made was accompanied by a hateful feeling — doubt. He doubted people. He doubted the actions. He doubted himself. Looking at the interlocutor with a suspicious squint, the guy glared at the almost empty package: — Won't you share? — I don't smoke. He made a face: — But ... — No "buts", — the girl put her free hand in her pocket, stubbornly trying to find something there, - if you don't smoke, don't start, you're a nice guy, it doesn't suit you. — You think? — I'm sure. Her attempt was successful. And instead of a stick, which will give no more than a couple of minutes of high and hundreds of days of hell, she held out a caramel. He smiled absurdly, but still accepted the candy: — Lollipop? Seriously? He twirled the received "gift", looking at it from all sides. — By the way, I'm giving the last one, enjoy it. — And what is your understanding of "enjoy"? She was looking somewhere over the horizon. It had been getting dark for a long time. This place was filled with an atmosphere of tranquility. The cemetery on the edge of the cliff is a splendor that cannot be expressed in words. — In my understanding — enjoy it to the fullest, as if this is the last candy in your life, as if you are living your last day… Her disheveled hair was even more confused by the rising breeze. A pleasant breeze to the heart. — The last day, — the guy thought, — what will it be — my last day? She, without taking her eyes off the unreal landscape and painted clouds — did the artist die today , gently, almost imperceptibly smiled. — Your last day will be beautiful. — And again are you sure of your words? The corner of the scarlet lips, once bitten to the point of blood, did not descend. - Of course... She took a deep breath. And he repeated it automatically. To the point of nausea, the already familiar smell of cherry caramels, mixed with damp grave earth, picked up subtle notes of dissipating tobacco. From such a bouquet, he had a lump in his throat.

Silence. The peace hovering around them hurt the eyes.

Silence that didn't cause any awkwardness.

But only on the contrary created an intimate atmosphere.

The silence is broken. Damn. — Listen, if you are such a confident know—it—all, - the guy asked, sincerely looking into the eyes of the interlocutor, - then can you tell your fate? She, turning her head in his direction, with her emerald, but no longer burning eyes, peered into the soul of the guy, as if reading the confirmation of confidentiality.

By the way, she found this line.

— My destiny…she 's a little… —Well, tell it like it is," he said impatiently and received a clear lightning bolt in his eye, after which his temple pulsed. — In five years, I will be lying underground in the place where we are sitting now. She expressed it all in one breath, but her voice did not waver. — Why do you have such negative thoughts? Why would you die in five years? The stranger grinned. — God grant, if five years. — Explain… — Well, for example, I have pneumonia, — she gesticulated to her words with her hand, simultaneously putting out her cigarette butt on a nearby stone, — does this mean something to you? — That you're crazy… — You think? — I'm sure.

***

— A familiar face? Are you kidding me? The indignant young lady could not calm her anger. Approaching from behind, she peered at the engraved letters and the outline of the face: — Well, who is this girl? — Leonor... — Lee said almost in a whisper. — Yes, I've already read it, — the companion shouted, — do you know her? The guy fell into his own world again, but the familiar, so familiar and nauseatingly cloying smell of cherry caramels evaporated. There was no trace of him left. – This is the first time I've heard that name, – Minho drawled. The girl rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand and dragged him in the opposite direction, continuing to scold: – That's wonderful, – she began, – and now we're going to my grandmother and I'll never take you with me... for... torment… Her words hung somewhere in space, not playing any meaning. Just sounds. Minho's ears rang and his vision went dark. Was he covered by a forgotten memory or is this all happening right now? Whatever it was, the only thing he could think about was "please don't disappear." But with each passing second, the sweet fragrance slipped through the guy's fingers more and more.

Once upon a time, sitting in the same place and inhaling that forgotten fragrance, they gave each other communication that they would meet again, saying goodbye for the last time.