She leans over me, her still wet hair quite literally dripping water onto my shoulders. The light tropical scent of her shampoo wafts over me; the same shampoo she's been using for 10 years.
The first time this smell was etched into my memory was a night 9 years ago, when I had stayed with her overnight. Just lying awake in the small bed next to the person I would in the future come to love. Her window was always thrown wide open, without a screen, and the night breeze brought with it the smell of her horde of horses. The musty warm smell of the steady horses was one others would complain to me about, but one that I secretly delighted in. Just outside, weeds threatened to invade the room, growing tall and wild, strong bitter and rustling with spider webs. Crickets and birds were so loud and close it sounded as if they may have been in the room itself. Next to me she slept soundly in the place she had always lived, smelling of coconut.
These would become the aromas that would always, without fail bring up her image.