something about a scent that doesn't ask to be remembered

Four small bottles. Each one distinct enough to feel like a different version of the same morning. Something about the woody one settled differently than I expected - less sharp, more like something left behind on a coat.

Still thinking about this one.

The tea note was the first thing. Then the wood underneath it, slow and cool. It reads almost neutral on skin, which is either nothing or everything, depending on what you're looking for.

Worn it three times this week without deciding to.

Rose that doesn't announce itself. That was the surprise. It opens a little bright then softens into something closer to skin than to flower.

It lasts without trying.

Cherry and rose and wood in the same breath. It sounds like too much and then it isn't. The cherry stays light, barely there, and the wood pulls it down into something wearable at any hour.

I kept coming back to it on days when I couldn't name what I wanted.