She felt a draft. Along with it came that familiar smell. "I told you before that I can't sign the contract until I have the plans." Far off, she heard someone making a phone call, but she couldn't match the voice. Was it coming from the hallway? She adjusted her sleep mask and rolled back over. It was still early in the morning, as the handful of sunbeams falling through her roller blind told her. She breathed in deeply and buried her face in a pillow.

The evening before, her husband had returned home late. He was babbling something again about a business deal he had to close. As a result, he repeatedly missed their dinner date, as he did just about every Friday. It had almost turned into a ritual that he would come home late and she would wait for him on the couch with Chinese takeout. Back then, both of them had pictured marriage differently. He had promised always to be there for her, and she took him at his word. Who would have thought they would end up like this.

The memory of yesterday evening's reservation, which had been cancelled yet again, brought tears to her eyes. In the small, dimly lit room, only a distant phone call and a soft sniffle could be heard. She wasn't usually one to cry easily, but that smell triggered something in her. It was a hint of light cigarette smoke mixed with a sweet undertone. She had never been able to classify what it was, but she knew who that smell belonged to. When she takes off the mask, she notices that she is lying alone in the bed on the other side. Curled up in her husband's blanket.

Back when they had first met, they crossed paths in a bar. It smelled of beer, cigarettes, and sweat. Many people crowded the dance floor. But she sat at the bar and had been sipping at her gin and tonic for some time. "Is this seat free?" She turned to her side and saw a man. He couldn't be older than mid-twenties, had dark brown eyes, and wore his hair in an uncombed, short style. But the first thing she noticed about him was his scent. Was it a perfume? What was it? She couldn't quite place it. He was still looking at her until she realized she hadn't even answered. "Sure, have a seat," she blurted out, embarrassed.

It was exactly this smell that she had noticed. The former familiarity and sense of security mixed with the bitter smell of tobacco. She would always recognize that smell. If she had been asked what her favorite scent was, she would have answered in the past, a light sweet note with the bitter smell of tobacco. But now it was a scent that triggered only one thing in her. Loneliness.