As I walked up the steps to my house, a rare and familiar scent enveloped me.
Cherry Blossoms.
And the memories of the last time they bloomed brought such yearning that I stopped dead in my tracks. How bittersweet.
How annoying. Never have been one for letting go of control, for allowing someone or something to dictate any of my actions, I have fought like a tiger for my independence of the tight bands of control, and I still have the scratches to prove it.
So I shook it off, walked inside, and promptly shut off that part of my mind.
Denial. Independence. Same thing, really.
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