Fugitive Pigment

It’s mirrored windows reflecting downtown [city name] City, the monastery rose skyward. An office building. Charming had expected to feel more comfortable inside than out, but the lobby ceiling lofted above her stretching everything in the space upward with it. Charming expected the furniture, the potted plants, and she would soon catch free of her mooring to the floor and tumble upward. She dropped Brother Gane’s hand once she realized she had it.

A floral but masculine scent she’d attributed to some cologne of Gane’s permeated the lobby. “Is that incense?”


“That smell. Like a spicy melon or a maybe some sort of tree I’ve not seen.”

Gane ducked his head into his badge’s strap and paused a moment to smile. He slicked a finger lightly along his rust-stained grey braids and tested the smell with his own nose before offering his finger tip to Charming. “This?”

Her face must have contorted with obvious reluctance, because Gane withdrew his offer and tested the smell again. “It’s not that strong.”

“Give it.” Charming reached out for his hand. “Ack. That’s it all right. Gah! I think I can taste it now.”

“Alizarin Crimson. You’ll get used to it. You’ll have to if you’re staying here.”

204 words on day 716