The room was filled with a strange, yet familiar, scent.
Two glass bottles sat innocently on the dresser-drawer. One of them contained Layla’s customary perfume, one the noxious substitute we’d filched from Arnold, our next-door neighbor. He was 15 and went to high-school; he knew lots of cool stuff. Neither of us had dared ask where he got it from, we just took a sniff of the stuffed, wrinkled our noses in approval and silently paid him in chocolate-chip cookies. Backing away, we headed for the door. Too late, we heard the ominous sound of footsteps approaching. We scurried and hid behind the floor-length curtains shading the window.
“…and he said he’s gonna be outside my house at six to pick me up, and I was like ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh, I can’t believe it!” high pitched giggles, and then the uncorking of a stopper. The room was filled with a strange, yet familiar, scent.