Comfort Sniffing

Master Pravus was so tired and it was the end of the day. “Whatcha doin’?” I asked him a little lazily.

“Comfort sniffin,'” He said. It kind of threw me off. He had his torso in my thigh with his head laying on my tummy just-so.

“Comfort sniffin’?” I asked.

He took a deep, slow inhale.

“Yeah.” He smiled and sank in deeper. I smiled a bit. I’ve always been prone to sniffing things. I’m the first to notice the smell of anything cooking, a freshly lit candle, a burning match, I love the smell of Master Pravus. But. I don’t think I’ve called it that before.

It made me think back to a time when I was in high school. I was in the hospital for over a week. My friends were writing me notes every day. I wrote back to them daily, and we had two notebooks for this purpose. One notebook was with me at all times, and when I finally got back to school I heard stories about how everyone was fighting over the notebook. “I want to take it home with me! You had it last time! ..It smells like her!”

“..It smells like her.”

That instantly struck me, even then. “Do I smell?” I remember asking my friends. “Well no. Yes? But it’s wonderful!” And I never knew what they were talking about. Or what the smell was. I had perfume but I never wore it. I have perfume now, but I still almost never wear it. So what do I smell like? What do I smell like?

I keep asking Master Pravus randomly, when he’s in the middle of one of his comfort sniffing snuggle sessions.

“What do I smell like?” And it always makes me think back to that time I was passing that notebook back, and my friends were sending me that notebook. “I want the notebook. ..It smells like her.

He laid with me tonight.

“I’m so tired. I just want to comfort sniff.”

I started rubbing him while he lay across my hip lazily.

“What do I smell like?” I asked dreamily. I expected him to tell me what he always tells me. He usually says “I don’t know. Kind of like a shower, but also nothing like that. There’s something else. It’s too hard to describe…” Then he gives up. I never push him too hard, but I’m always curious.

Tonight he got a strange look in his eyes. He sat up a little and started rubbing my foot. Then, he said:

“Do you know when you go to an old library? And it’s filled with the smell of those old books, and you feel like you’re home? Or the ocean? And you smell the ocean air? And it feels so familiar and exactly like where you should be..”

He paused.

“Kitty? Are you okay? You’re making a weird smile.”

“I’m trying not to cry.”

“It’s just that. Your smell is like that. You smell familiar. You smell like my Kitty.”

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