A Blanket Of Her Perfume

Jeff woke under the soft cashmere blanket that she loved. He curled into it and inhaled. Her scent was still there. The smell of juniper berries and something herbal. Maybe lemongrass. He never could quite pinpoint what that other smell was.

He could have gone on the internet and looked up the description of her favorite perfume, A Lass In Glass. He could have seen the scent broken down to its top notes, middle notes, and base notes. But he never did.

He liked the mystery of it.

Just as he had loved the mystery of her. Those moments when she’d sit quietly and meditate…He never asked her what she meditated about. He had liked the idea of not knowing, as strange as it seemed.

The scent was growing fainter day by day.

Soon it would be gone, replaced by his own scent of body heat, soap, and cologne.

But it wasn’t gone yet.

It was still there.

It was still there, embedded in the blanket’s soft weave.

He held onto it with all of his might.

December Writing Prompts


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