He looks at her lips and remembers when he saw her smile and felt like he could retroactively justify every decision he ever made because it led to this moment where he got to see her smile. He likes driving fast at night because the noise of the engine cancels out the cacophony of monkeys dancing in his head.
He tries to remember the smell of her hair. He wants to smell her hair, not for a particular reason, just to have the smell in his head as a point of reference. He doesn’t know how to accomplish this. He thinks it would be weird to, apropos of nothing, lean in and smell her hair. He thinks it would be exhausting to engage back into a relationship for the purpose of getting physically close enough to her for a long enough time to be able to smell her hair. He thinks maybe he should just ask her, genuinely explaining his motivations, if he could smell her hair, but he thinks that would be a weird thing to bring up in the middle of a conversation trying to resolve her quarter life existential dread.