short fiction · 2026-10-07

Amber Remembrance

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I inhaled the faint perfume of toasted grain and pine, and suddenly I was standing on a narrow dock at dusk, hearing the distant call of gulls. The scent carried the sharp edge of citrus my mother used to zest into sauces, and it unlocked a memory of her laughing as she folded dough, her fingers dusted with flour. Each breath pulled a thread from the past, weaving itself into the present like a loose strand being tightened. I felt the weight of that moment settle in my chest, a quiet anchor that steadied the restless thoughts swirling around me. When I lifted my head, the dock was gone, but the scent lingered, a reminder that memory lives on in the air we breathe.