Aube Dansante Eau de Toilette

They were never sweet to each other. That was never on offer. Lemon and lime first, sharp and unapologetic, the way the two of them spoke before either would admit to meaning anything by it. Then basil, green and bruised—a leaf that gives up its scent only when handled roughly, which is the only way it was ever handled. Peppermint through the middle, cool, brief, a window opened after an argument. What stays is vetiver, which is a root, and bergamot, which is bitter under its brightness and which burns skin in sunlight. They knew that about each other and reached anyway.

A dancing dawn: the hour they kept for meeting, when they spoke of everything except the one thing, and no one ever caught them at it. Two people too tangled to let go, too sharp to hold without bleeding.