AROMATIC BEAUTY (Fiction)
The Girl Who Swears By Panache She swayed past him, like a cool gush of breeze in a hot desert, an angelic beauty. The sweetness of fresh flowers and morning dew made its way through his nostrils as she continued to walk- not looking back, not halting. The fragrance lingered for some more time after she left, and he couldn’t help but stare at the empty space that she created at the coffee table in the cafe, where him- the artist was sitting since four hours, trying to find some inspiration for his next masterpiece. He tried to remember her face, but realized that he didn’t see that angel’s face, just her back and well- that unforgettable fragrance of her perfume. He sat back, and held his pen against the white paper, in an attempt to relive the moment- an attempt of sketching her. He started, or perhaps never started, because how on earth can you draw a fragrance? He tried to remember anything about her- her eyes or her hair, her smile or her hands but wa...