Chrisonomicon

Thursday, February 15, 2001

The drawer slid open with a hoarse resistance, guiltily displaying its secrets. My breathing halted momentarily as a sudden pang of red rang through my stomach. Kurt?s toothbrush looked up at me from its hiding place.

It had only been four months, but still the thought of him lingered like the aftertaste of a prerousal dream. I reached inside and brought the toothbrush into the light. It was still in its plastic casing, as though it had never been used. Memory begged difference.

I looked down at Sumo, gazing back at me with questioning, dark eyes. I would never have gone looking in the drawer if he hadn?t recently found my current toothbrush a tasty chew-toy. Reaching down to pat his head, I laughed to myself. A wave of giddiness washed over me, as I suddenly realized the implications of using the old toothbrush.

Toothpaste smeared easily from the tube onto worn bristles and I looked at it for a moment before running the head under the tap. I regretted not smelling the brush before using it. The idea of the scent ? old toothpaste and saliva ? sent a warm swell through my body. Sighing, shrugging, I stuffed the brush into my mouth.

Kurt wouldn?t be needing it anymore.