Stupefaction

I don't remember his eyebrows' color or what he was wearing. I can't remember his nose's shape, or his upper lip's. I can't figure out how tall he is. I can't reproduce his whole presence.

Again, all that is left is the sensation/consciousness that I've been around him. The air's scent, my drunkenness, his tobacco's exact flavor, his tone of voice, his easygoingness, hence the comfort..

More his, less my. 

I'd like to forget about myself for awhile.