In the transparent tiny glass bottle, the little amount of golden liquid silently lurked. It was supposedly the perfume of Chanel. The label on the bottle was overly faded, as though it strongly resisted to be read further. The bottle was probably concealed from time for decades like the life of a heartbroken widow. And it was probably the original form of every extreme emotion like love and pain. And, it did witness the tears and passion of the owner, or I hoped it did. Even through the brief glance of the bottle, there were the indefinable dignity and luxuriance which I never ever belonged to.

When the bottle was opened, the subtle yet strong smell of the perfume immediately filled the air of the room. It was so easy to guess that the thickness of the smell was merely the consequence of evaporation through time. Even so, a part of me still wished that there should be something more than that to the smell. The golden liquid was too mysterious, too lonely and never deserved to be concluded by one simple scientific reason like evaporation. What if the owner were the refined female? The bottle had to have a story, hopefully a drama, a big one that could eventually make me cry.

So, again, what if the owner were the refined female? The smell fascinated, poisoned, and betrayed various gentlemen, for love was feeding the woman and she was only lived by love. Or, the smell was the tool of her own and she was using it to earn money by making men attracted to her, for she was a courtesan. Whichever the story was true, the bottle survived until today, apart from the reality, by keeping the secret of the owner, and I was still blocked from the secret. The golden liquid was indeed too mysterious and too lonely like that, for it was simply beautiful and it was what it made it even guilty.

© 2015 Kiara Belle * To subscribe on your Kindle, please click HERE!!!

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