I once had a vacuum salesman tell me that when you get rid of a mattress it weighs ten pounds more than it did when you bought it. Something about skin particles.
I’ve washed my sheets, my pillows…everything. It smells like you still. That strange, musky, manley, clean, unwashed hippy smell that I could never mistake. Your skin cells are still living in my mattress just like your number is still living in my phone even though I tell myself that I’ll never call you.
Someday I’ll get a new phone, and a new mattress, but you’ll always be there in a way. Stinking up my belongings with your clean dirtiness.