Perfume.

She had the knife in her hand. Its blade shone darkly in the face of her victim. The man crumpled softly against the moss on the breaking wall. The floor was wet with tears and guilt. He was terrified but he made no noise. Maybe she had already sliced it out of his throat.

As she stood like a statue, looking out the window, he moved slowly. Whispering crazily to himself, he sucked on his wounded thumb. He was drinking. His thirst was not for blood.

She could not sense his movements. She was trying to remember the fragrance that the wind had brought in a couple of minutes ago. Her eyes vainly looked down at the crowd that had gathered below the small building. The carnival had started early this time.

The filthy bloody smell from his body rushed into her nostrils as she turned around and caught him by his throat. She crushed his Adam’s Apple with her strong fingers without any hesitation. A devilish smile decorated her beautiful face as though she enjoyed the sound of it.

He could not swallow anymore. The blood he had in his mouth, was choking him. It was drying up.
She kept her eyes out the window as if someone long lost was coming back that night. Suddenly, she shuddered as the cool breeze embraced her half naked body. Realization blanketed her into an odd warmth, as she recognized the smell. Her memories were being painted in blood. That one smell. It was her lover’s.

She whirled around. The man was lying on the floor wishing for a quick death. She took his head in her hands. Her fingers traced his chiseled face slowly. He drew a sudden breath. Fear filled her heart and she heard it burst. There was a tornado of pain. Her blind eyes now knew nothing but light.

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