At first, she wore the scent of his handpicked May roses, infused with heady cinnamon spice and a top note of sweet naivety.
The chemistry was undeniable.
By the following season, his formula had changed. Now, it was complex, exacting, and
absolute: deep red Damask roses, crushed and steeped with the trappings of amber and a base layer of despair.
In time, she began to craft her own extract that would finally renounce his cloying hold. She anointed herself with a fresh fragrance that broke free from tradition, the lightest aroma carrying a heart note of hope in her wake.
Stacey George lives with her partner and their daughter in Cornwall, UK. Her poetry has been published in The Dawntreader, Hammond House anthologies, and online via wildwords.org. Stacey's microfiction has been featured in Grindstone Literary and #vss365 anthologies. Her flash fiction has been published online by Reflex Fiction and Virtualzine.
This story won 2nd Prize in the May 24 Monthly Micro Competition