Flash Fiction

She Never Really Left

The scent of her lingered long after her death. He smelled it mostly in the kitchen, especially when he opened the drawers or reached for a cup. Her favorite perfume had been Shalimar because every girl wore it and she had a fascination with India.

It suit her and gave her recognition by the doormen and the other singers. He met her backstage near a sticky spot of the floor where too much champagne spilled and no one bothered to mop it up. He rocked back and forth, his shoes making a ripping sound on the floor.

It didn’t seem to bother her and soon they were talking like old friends. She married him soon after and over 50 years always wore that perfume. He missed her. But her scent lingered in the kitchen.

© 2019, Michael Shawn Sommermeyer. All rights reserved.


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