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He was lying on his mattress looking at a magazine, a photo of a beautiful woman. It was a blistering June day, must've been 100 degrees in his apartment, easy, but he'd just spent six hours at the library and couldn't stand one more minute. He was looking at the beautiful woman thinking it'd be nice to touch her shoulder when a strong whiff of perfume suddenly crossed his nose like when you're reading one of those fancy expensive magazines and accidentally flip across a page with an ad with one of those sample seals you open and run across your wrist. Except this wasn't one of those fancy magazines and there weren't any perfume swatches. | |
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He thought maybe it was something weird from outside like maybe a big blooming tree was right next door and the wind just happened to whistle through it just the right way and waft across his nose. So he went to the window and it wasn't that. He was sweating like a pig today, stewing in his own juices as a nosy downstairs neighbor would say if there really was such a thing as a nosy downstairs neighbor and he hadn't eaten in a little over two days now and just quit smoking on top of that, and it occurred to him that he must be hallucinating. | |
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Strange, he thought, that of all hallucinations he could have he would hallucinate about the smell of perfume. He flipped on the television and thought, The heat can sure do some crazy things to you sometimes. |
She wishes she could be in a blimp right now. |