THE PERFUME THIEF
ISABELLA
I stood in the middle of my room, wrapped in a towel, my hair still dripping onto my shoulders, as I stared at my vanity like it had personally offended me.
It was gone. Again. My favourite perfume, the one I bought in Paris last spring, was gone. Thinking about the fact that I rationed it like it was like it was liquid gold and it wasn't where I'd left it.
I checked the drawers, the shelf, the bathroom counter and the floor like it had sprouted legs and walked away.
Spoiler: it didn't sprout legs, it was stolen by the same blonde-haired, blue-eyed menace who had been stealing my things since college.
Camille," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. "You have a bathroom the size of my apartment, but you need my perfume?
I pulled on a pair of shorts a
