Los Angeles. The city of endless possibilities, where everyone is a stranger until they're not. But for me, one stranger stood out among the sea of faces—a man I had never seen, yet I could never forget.
It was a Thursday afternoon, typical LA: crowded streets, sun-drenched and sweltering, with people bustling past me in every direction. I was just another face, lost in the rush of life, when it happened.
A scent. It hit me like a wave, cutting through the noise of the city. Warm, intoxicating, and familiar in a way I couldn't explain. Cologne—rich with cedarwood, a hint of leather, something that felt both timeless and intensely personal. It was the kind of scent that made you close your eyes and breathe it in, wanting to remember it forever.
But when I looked up, there was no one. The crowded sidewalk felt suddenly empty, like he had never been there at all.
It wasn't the first time I had noticed a scent in the air, but this was different. This was more than just a fragrance; it was a presence, a memory, a feeling. A feeling that made my heart race, like I was connected to something I couldn't reach, couldn't touch.
The city had a way of keeping its secrets, but this one haunted me. I had to find him, the man behind the scent, the one who had somehow imprinted himself into my very soul. But how do you find someone you've never seen?
In a city like LA, where anonymity is as common as the smog, I had only his cologne to go on—a feeling I couldn't touch, yet couldn't escape.
Los Angeles was supposed to be the city of dreams. At least, that's what everyone said when I moved here. But now, months after graduating with a Business Administration degree from the University of California, Los Angeles, I was starting to wonder if I had misjudged the city—or if it had misjudged me.
I spent my days scouring job boards, sending out resumes like confetti, and watching rejection emails flood my inbox. I'd traded in the excitement of graduation for the harsh reality of a market that didn't care about my degree, my ambition, or the countless hours I spent acing every class.
But one afternoon, as I walked through the crowded streets of downtown LA, something caught my attention. It wasn't a billboard or a flashy ad, but a scent.
At first, I thought it was just another cologne drifting through the air. But it was different. Rich, warm, and layered with a complexity that made my pulse quicken. It wrapped around me, pulling me in, as if this single, fleeting moment was meant just for me.
I turned, expecting to see someone standing nearby, but the street was as crowded as ever, and there was no one there. No man in a suit. No passerby. Just the lingering traces of his scent, fading into the hum of the city.
I didn't know who he was, but that was the thing—it didn't matter. I had never seen him, but the way he made me feel... it was undeniable. Like an imprint left on my soul, a reminder that, even in a city as big and impersonal as Los Angeles, maybe there was something—or someone—I couldn't yet see.
So I began my search, not for a job, but for the man behind the scent. The one who had unknowingly stolen my heart with nothing more than his cologne.
But how do you find someone who was never meant to be found?