Perfume

It was the smell of her perfume that first drew me in…

It was the smell of her perfume that first drew me in. Standing beside her in the lift, the waft of Chanel №5 rose in my nostrils. Faint, soft, classic, accompanied by the memory of my mother dressed up to the nines, dabbing scent behind her earlobes, the inside of her wrists, between her breasts. Sitting magnificent in front of her bedside table, in her…

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Jupiter Grant

Writer, Poet, Narrator, Freelancer. Living in UK & my own head. Send queries here: jupiterslair@gmail.com. Buy me a coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/jupitergrant