A prompt story

Redolence

Some things never die

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It follows me. Clings to my clothes, and hangs in the air. She haunts me. I don’t know how she does it. Is it madness? No, I can smell it. Even here.

I wish I had done the interview in person. Room for rent, shared kitchen, but private space. She sounded sweet over text. We chatted and lol’d. No harbinger of dread. It wasn’t until moving day, laden with boxes as I was following her down the hall, that I smelled her. Vanilla and brown sugar. Not a bad smell, more like childhood, almost like mother. I could feel unseen eyes on my back. A great guilt and fear I couldn’t place. I shuddered and shook my head. She glanced back at me, and for a moment she looked familiar. No. A trick of the light. I rushed with the rest of the boxes and retired to my room.

It started quite normal. We orbited separate moons. She stayed in her room and I in mine. We both worked days, only meeting at the fridge or passing in the hall. Brief interchanges.

“How do you do?”

“Pass the milk.”

I had no interest in her, obscene or otherwise. I think we got along, at the very least we bore no malice.

On the fifth night, I awoke from a nightmare. A terror like when I was small. I sat up in bed, sweaty and gasping and there…