Perfume | Short Story

The scent of Lucy's perfume lingered in the bedroom as she closed the bathroom door to take a shower. Once she was out of sight, Felix turned to rest his face on her pillow. She smelled of jasmines and desert winters, and he relished in the thought of her smile and the scent of her freshly washed hair. It had been years since his pillowcases smelled of anything other than detergent and dampness.

On that winter night, his other pillowcases hung in surrender on the drying rack next to the radiator in his living room. The perfumes from other girlfriends had long faded, and he had embraced the idea of living a life unbothered by the presence of others.

A pang of sadness hit him as he heard the water running in the bathroom. In a few moments, she'd come out, get dressed, offer him a polite smile and a half-hearted promise to stay in touch and vanish from his life.

The end was always near, even when their evening seemed to go well. Sometimes they gave a reason; sometimes they faded from his life as soon as they had appeared, without a word, with only the temporary traces of their lipstick on his pillow as fleeting as a footprint in the sand.

What Felix didn't expect was to hear her sing over the dull white noise of the water running in the shower. Intoxicated, he sat on the bed, hanging on to every note. Her strong, silky voice painted a starry night in the desert, a first kiss, and all the souls longing for the warmth of a hand holding theirs.

In her voice, he heard once again the small pieces of herself she had shared in their days and nights together -- her dream of travelling the world, her fierce intelligence and optimism, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the loneliness of finding herself so far away from home.

Maybe this time things will be different. Maybe this time morning will bring a new beginning. Feeling more alive than ever, he got out of bed, put a shirt on, and rushed to the kitchen to make her breakfast.

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Thanks for reading all the way to the end. I hope you enjoyed this story.

Last week, I mentioned I wasn’t happy with some of the stories I’ve written in the last couple of years. Nothing wrong with them — They’re just a bit grim and hopeless, and I’m no longer in the same headspace that produced them. So, I’m not sure what I’ll do with them.

The good news is it’ll give me the space and motivation I needed to write fresh stories instead of focusing so much on revising those old stories.

Anyway. I’d love to hear more from you and what you’d like to see next, so I’ll include a poll most weeks at the end of my newsletter. Here’s my question for you this week.