Yeah, I get it’s not real. I get it’s just my memory, just in my head.
But it’s an actual thing. If he hadn’t told me what the word was, I don’t think I would’ve called it anything. Probably just’ve shrugged it off, one of those weird-ass things that happen, like when you see spots in your eyes or get this ringing in your ears after you go down hard or something. Kinda like a hallucination, but not. I mean, I’m not seeing things.
Synesthesia, he called it. When you feel something with the wrong sense. He told me there are people who can actually see the shapes of music when they hear it, people who taste something but then see colors. Mine’s the opposite of that last one, though, and it’s not with everything.
But it’s like I see him out there on the mat, doing his thing, and sure, I smile, I try to cheer him on while I wait for my matches without it lookin’ like I’m cheering him on. But even though I’m just looking at him, even though I’m just sitting there watching him grunt and heave and pin that dude from Michigan to the floor, I can still tell you just how he fuckin’ tastes.