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Scent Notes: Spiced vanilla and amber meld with warm honeycomb. A midnight bloom of black jasmine dances with a whisper of dark palo santo.

Julia stands in the alley behind the back of the club, fuming. The letter from Carmen, once pristine, perfect paper, is now a crumpled-up wad buried tightly in her fist. She’d had her; Carmen was RIGHT THERE. She could’ve taken out her swordcane and stabbed Carmen if she’d been less drunk. Goddamn absinthe. Stupid Paris. City of love, my ass, Julia thinks as she sways in place from her combination of rage and alcohol. She closes her eyes, and forces herself to count to ten while taking deep, even breaths.

Feeling a little more steady, she heads back through the nighttime streets of Paris, which are just full of couples strolling arm-in-arm, late-night dinner conversations erupt from restaurants and carry over the heads of everyone who passes by, and the whole city is vibrating with light and life. This does nothing but continue to infuriate Julia, who is marching as fast as she can, back to the train station to hop the next train out of this hellhole that does nothing but mock her pain.... to read the rest of the story!