She popped the cork on the jar and we smelt them. Their scents rushed through every part of us. Only two ever did that before: saffron, durian. Why try to conjure what we felt? Intoxication followed and remained while we dined – their splinters and shavings amok like number 6 shot in a duck, through every course – but not a hint of taste prevailed, nor could remind with the rapturous scents allowed to rule: between us, in and out, breathing through every molecule.

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