CIXOT EVOL

His scent ☕

Scrolling through my phone, I ventured into the world of deleted memories, flipping through old pictures of people I once thought could be "the one." Memories from the gastro pub flashed before my eyes, and I couldn't shake the image of his cherry blossom lips. Pale, pink, and moist, they captured my attention, until I gave myself another slap to bring myself back to reality.

The mystery guy had left a lasting impression, a mix of feelings—comfort, his gentle touch, the warmth radiating from him, and the closeness we shared. His intense gaze reflected the mystery surrounding him. But amid this deep connection, a realisation hit me—he was still nameless, his identity a secret because of my impulsive decision.

The next day began with a beautiful sunrise, pulling me and my friends Tay and Tamera to the nearby coffee shop. We greeted each other warmly and found a comfy spot to settle in. But there was a sense of curiosity lingering around us, especially as Tay jumped right into discussing the mysterious guy I met the night before. Tay bombarded me with questions about the mysterious guy, firing them off one after another. "Who is he? What's his name? Did you two go home together?" Her curiosity was palpable, but Tamera stepped in, reminding Tay to ease up on the relentless questioning.

I tried to tell them about what happened last night. I described how Larry grabbed my arm tightly, trying to talk to me. The room fell silent as I remembered the scent of the mystery guy, lingering in the air, reminding me of our encounter. Ireplied with a straightforward "yes," causing Tamera and Tay to eruptin disbelief. But I dashed their hopes by explaining further. "It's notwhat you think," I reassured them, making it clear that nothing romantichad happened. The mystery guy simply walked me home, offering comfort after therecent event with Larry.

Their expressions fell with disappointment, clearly hoping for a juicier story. I comforted them, stressing the short period since the breakup and the importance of taking time to heal and find my footing again. As the coffee shop door cracked open, a delightful mix of outdoor scents flooded in, creating a vibrant atmosphere. The air was filled with the smell of freshly cut grass, blossoming flowers, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Among the familiar scents, a new fragrance emerged, blending the sweetness of roses with the freshness of grapefruit and a mix of spices. Deeper layers unveiled hints of lavender, the warmth of smooth wood, and a touch of liquorice, patchouli, and vetiver. Yet, beneath it all, a mysterious musky scent remained, adding an air of intrigue to the aroma. The captivating smell aroused her curiosity, urging her to find where it was coming from. She looked left, then right, searching around, but instead of finding the mystery guy, she spotted someone else sitting behind her.

The mysterious scent got stronger, almost playing with her senses, as the mystery guy walked past her while she was looking the other way. Tamera and Tay tried to get her attention by tapping her on the shoulder, but by then, it was too late. The mystery guy had already grabbed his coffee, gone back to his car, and vanished from view. Eager for another look, she dashed to the parking lot, hoping to catch him, but he had already disappeared, leaving her with a feeling of missed chance. Back at the coffee shop, she offered to pay for their drinks. Surprisingly, a symbol on the counter caught her eye: "∎ The memories."

She felt puzzled by the mysterious notes and symbols, trying to figure out what they meant. They seemed to tell a story, but it was one she couldn't quite grasp yet. The scent of the mystery guy still hung in the air, adding to her confusion as she pondered over the unanswered questions. The barista, caught off guard, shot a glance in my direction, his eyes and lips forming an unspoken question as he dried a coffee mug. The woman, unfazed, politely addressed me, seeking the note that was allegedly left for her by someone named Chris. The mention of the name sent a jolt through me, wondering if this was the mysterious guy himself.

Still grappling with my thoughts, I asked, "Chris?" inwardly contemplating whether this was the moniker of the mystery guy. To my surprise, the woman confirmed, answering affirmatively. She explained that she was instructed to come and collect the tissue paper with the symbol. The scenario seemed surreal, reminiscent of a scene from a mysterious game, where participants collected random symbols.