I could smell him...

I worked at the lock for about five minutes, the door just wouldn't open. I was about to give up, 'one more try' I thought and with a final twist, the lock gave up its resistance. I went into his flat and headed straight to the back bedroom to find pictures I left there a number of years ago for safe keeping. They weren't there. I started to walk about the flat thinking that they had been moved. I then started to smell the cigarettes and stale alcohol. I went into the sitting room, the smell followed me. I tried not to breathe.

The smell was comforting, it reminded me of my childhood. The smell appeared to get stronger the more I searched. I couldn't find them. I decided to go home. On the drive home I felt really sad, not because my trip to collect the pictures was unsuccessful but because all my memories of my granda came flooding back, the good times, the bad times, the times we hid behind the sofa when he was paralytic drunk, knocking the door shouting, "who loves ya baby" to my granny. I miss him and his nuisance!

My granda died over three years ago and several people have lived in his flat since. I could smell him and I knew he was there with me.