the ones that settle into the skin like something warm and already known

It opened warm. Not sweet exactly, but close - the kind of warmth that reminds you of a room you used to sit in. Something about this one felt different in how it stayed, not loud, just present.

Still there by evening.

Deep and slow and a little bit like standing in the dark. I kept coming back to it on mornings when I wanted to feel like I had my footing before the day started.

The richness doesn't feel heavy. Which is either nothing or everything.

Seven small bottles lined up on the windowsill. Each one a different mood, a different version of something soft. Floral without being obvious, musk without being loud.

A whole small world.