Sometimes the air smells heavy of perfume long after the women have gone. Sometimes I won't even have seen a woman there in the first place and this will have been the only evidence that she was there; that she existed. This scent, not of flowers or fruit or vanilla, but of shopping malls with mirrored department store counters and money spent-- On what? On evidence? On vacant attempts to lure a man? To keep him?



And though you may not know her or have seen her-- like a headache, you will wish that you could forget her.