Following a [prompt]ing

Until I get better at this, I cleave to prompts for blogspiration. (<---did you enjoy that poor attempt at cleverness?)

After googling (why is that not a real word yet?) "daily blog prompts," I went from link to link trying to find a prompt or prompts that I liked,  because what is the point of writing about something that doesn't interest you? I found a site that's called The One-Minute Writer which supplies daily prompts and the writer is expected to take just one minute to write about that prompt. My favorite of the prompts are entitled Fiction Fridays. You're given a word and then meant to write a piece of short fiction. I'm going to take more than one minute and I'm going to change the prompts to suit my needs. Ok?

ok.

Another Almost Fiction

[scent]

I move through the mall like a zombie, preying praying that I find the object of my desire soon so that I can leave before my entire soul is torn from me. All I want is white pumps to go with my pink floral dress. I move from store to store and hate every version of a white high heel that I find. None of the options are outright ugly, but they aren't what I want, so I hate them. I haven't showered yet, I have to pee, I'm tired and I'm hungry. I find myself in full on failure to thrive mode while trapped in a place that makes my natural social anxiety sky rocket.
I can't imagine this situation being any worse. Apparently my imagination needs some work because without any warning, it does, in fact, get worse. As I make my way into a department store, past the make up and perfume counters, I am overwhelmed with a scent that turns my stomach. I recognize the scent instantly and my emotion cage rattles inside me, threatening to let loose everything I've locked so carefully inside of it. I should be used to it now, it's everywhere, on every campus, in every restaurant, walking around on every college boy with an abercrombie t-shirt and crooked baseball cap. It's a scent I used to crave, seek, love. Yet, it catches me off-guard every time, thrusting me into a downward spiral of anger, sadness, fear and depression. Why does it offend me so? Simply because he wore it. I was intoxicated by it in every loving embrace and tender kiss. It enveloped me every time I fell asleep in his arms and it lingered on my clothes for days. It was a scent I couldn't escape and I suppose it still is.