I turned my head, searching for the intoxicating smell. It was a perfume. Where had I smelt it before?
Then, my head was reeling with a memory from the past. A smoky bar in Bali. A beautiful woman, with an elegant, slim waist, gorgeous shoulders, red tresses and green eyes. Graceful movements, as though she were a trained dancer. And an irrepressibly cheerful, beaming smile, so unlike me.
I thought about her for a moment—that woman from long ago, who sang for me one night in a bar halfway across the world. The woman with whom I’d spent a long night, making love in a dark room as the world stood still outside. There was no one like her. And nothing I could do now, after what I did to her. I still remembered the voicemail I’d gotten six years ago, the worried tone of the speaker. The last
