Chapter 10

Scott watched himself tilt his head as he sniffed the cologne on his wrist.

“This is Blue Poetry Pour Homme from the fashion label, Blue Poetry. The opening smells like…baby shampoo. But there’s something vaguely criminal about this as well as…classic. I feel like I’m watching a black and white film noir. There’s a hardened gumshoe with a cigarette hiding in his office because he’s expecting a gun moll to barge in and shoot him. But he doesn’t feel great about getting the drop on the gun moll because he has a thing for her. Poor kid. Always mixed up with the wrong crowd. Her father was a shoeshine boy at the train station. Her mother sold flowers. They both had train soot in their hair at their wedding. And the bride’s white narcissus bouquet somehow smelled of lavender, vanilla, and coumarin or whatever synthetic is in this.”

He laughed at himself. He loved it when colognes told him stories, and this one apparently had him rambling.