GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) by Tiana Laveen

knowing she’d possibly be left behind? Did she no longer care? Why would she give up? Perhaps he was thinking about it all wrong… perhaps it was just as he’d first imagined. This was truly the ultimate act of love—sacrificing the relationship, killing it at the bud, so that something new could flourish. His thoughts kept roaming, growing, dying, and starting all over again. She fell asleep in his arms, and all he could do was hold her, kiss her, love her.
    He left the room and went to sit at the side of the old man, listening to him snore. At that moment, it proved no longer annoying; it no longer got under skin, got on top of his nerves or inside of his dreams, poisoning them with strange reverberations. It became Paw’s music, proof that he was alive. Proof that a piece of him still resided on Earth, proof that he was still there to cherish and nurture. He slumbered, unaware of Zenith’s presence. Much like Silver, peaceful, hidden away in a world he didn’t quite understand. The light blue and white striped pajamas he wore covered his broad chest as his stomach rose up and down in rhythmic waves.
    His worn, hard working hands lay crisscrossed over his slightly protruding gut. A soft, white light from the street shined in through his window, highlighting the wiry nose hairs that flapped about in his nostrils after each jagged breath. It was a humorous sight, but comforting all the same. Paw smelled of glycerin soap and Bengay, mingled with a bit of minty toothpaste, too.
    Smells, scents, aromas…
    Silver’s perfume.
    The oily odor in her kitchen that lingered days after she’d dissembled her motorcycle…
    The aroma of Mawmaw’s homemade vegetable stew and the floral fragrance Mom wore when he was a child…
    He remembered them well, and they all held a special place in his heart. Scents wrote memories—memories that faded like watercolor paintings left out in the sun. They disappeared, vanished due to a disease called dementia. Dementia festered, morphing into a worse monster named Alzheimer’s, and both demanded their time inside of Paw, tearing him down, brick by brick. Nothing could get rid of their presence—the sight of them, their sound, and their scent.
    Denise had cleaned the house from top to bottom, and a faint trace of bleach and freesia permeated the air. Running a hand over Paw’s head, he relaxed a bit as he felt the soft, silver mane, now reaching the middle of his slightly sloped back. Denise took the time to detangle and shampoo the tresses. He’d meant to get up after a while; to go on about his way once he made sure Paw was comfortable and resting well. Instead, he rested his head on the old man’s leg, crossing his arms along Paw’s knee, and pressing his forehead into his forearms. Before he knew it, his brain slowed down, stopped overthinking and simply faded to black.
    He fell asleep with the moon and the streetlights aglow, the snow drifting outside, and the memories of yesteryear dancing lazily in his mind, in the form of the sweetest of dreams on Earth…

Chapter Six

    “S o you had this in storage?” Zenith grimaced. “My boy is almost finished with the other one. I’ll pick it up soon.” Silver looked at the man standing in her small patch of front yard, his hands gloved and a scarf flapping about around his neck.
    “Yeah, this is my Harley Davidson, seventy-two. I don’t take her out much. She’s beautiful though, isn’t she?” Silver gleamed at the thing as she slid on her black leather bike gloves.
    “Yeah, she’s nice. You’ve got good taste. Why’s she out though?” Zenith looked around in confusion. “I mean, it’s not exactly ideal bike weather today.”
    “Well, it’s better than it has been. Besides, there’s no ice or snow, so,” she said with a shrug, “I figured I’d take her for a joy ride. I’d love it if you’d come along with me.”
    “Oh word? Cool!” He grinned wide. “I haven’t ridden in a while, but I’ll do her justice.”