In the dimly lit room, clothes were casually strewn across the floor, as though shed without a second thought. A silk dress lay crumpled near the foot of the bed, its delicate fabric catching the faint glow of the lamp. A jacket had slipped from the back of a chair, pooling beside a pair of shoes that had been kicked off in haste. Nothing was arranged, nothing deliberate. The disorder spoke clearly enough on its own.
The air was heavy with perfume, warm and lingering, clinging to the sheets and the curtains alike. It was a familiar scent, softened by closeness, no longer sharp but intimate, wrapping the space in a hazy sweetness that refused to dissipate.
