A Specific Task

OK, so I'm a day late with my Prompt Tuesday from San Diego Momma. I'm in a bit of a tizzy this week. This week's task is to get specific. To make the details scream. Here's my stab at it. Forgive my tardiness and enjoy.

Perched in a specially cut out oval nook within the toffee and milk hued tile, was a perfect memento from Paris. An oversize version of the intoxicating hotel soap. The one that took hours to scavenge and uncover from a tucked away parfumerie in the Latin Quarter that a local led me to. Alas, I gleefully unwrapped the luxurious paper with the romantic French prose and watermarked lilies. Even the text on a simple bar of soap is somehow more decadent when written en Francais. The sagey olive color and the simple scent of lily of the valley were pure and poetic. A subtle fragrance brought with it a tidal wave of memories.

The bar too big to grasp in my petite hands. The memories too big to recount while the six body jets were massaging my worn muscles. I inhaled deeply, closed my eyes ever so slightly, preparing to sense the slow motion movie playback of our brief but sweltering love affair in Paris. All those years ago. The details fading yet I could still make out the three lines in his forehead and the one dimple on his left cheek. I reached out to trace my fingertips along the lines as if he were in front of me at this very moment. The steamy shower made it difficult to breathe. Or perhaps the memory alone left me gasping.

Head thrown back, waterproof mascara bearing false advertising, the scent of lilies filling my lungs. Then I opened my eyes and the moment shattered like a compact crushed under the weight of an over stuffed day planner. That one lousy pubic hair on the lovely soap killed the moment. Done. Lights out. Paris over in a flash. The soap, my last memento, tarnished.