there’s a bespoke bottle of perfume on my dressing table, unremarkable glass bottle all but blending into the wall behind it.
i designed it a while ago, trying to pick out the various notes and fragrances that i felt best suited you; the ones that best reminded me of you, to be used when you were gone. you traveled a lot, and when you came back you always looked at the level of liquid, intrigued that it never went down. did i secretly top it up, you wondered, did i have some kind of perfume conspiracy going to pique your interest?
it was a necessary thing to do, really: became habit out of sleepless nights, and trying to mix perfume became a hobby that took off, somehow. one night i mastered the fragrance that matched your personality, used it as sparingly as possible.
maybe if you’d come back…