He stares out to sea, smoking. A cold wind whips grey peaks into foam beneath the promenade. The last ferry departs and the sky turns black. Sun umbrellas flap and tear and waiters hurry to clear away Summer’s last al fresco tables and chairs. Steel eyed gulls watch as he flicks his butt out and into the churning water.
He cannot face returning to the hotel room just now. The foyer’s gloom matches his mood, so he ambles along the crumbling alley behind his hotel. Thick rain streams down from the iron sky as he shelters against a rough stone wall, watching empty taxis come and go. She’s gone. He trembles now, at the memory of angry, twisted linen sheets, and the cruel final twist of her pointed stilettos, leaving. Crushing the tender buds of their love, she extinguished the fire of their desire.
All that lingers in the shadows of their passion is her perfume.
Ginger, Clove, Nutmeg, Myrrh, Ginger lily, Jasmine sambac, Australian sandalwood.