Needless to say, I loved her madly.
But that's not what I remember most. What I remember most, of course, is her smell.
Oh my God, her smell. She smelled like the devil's gumdrops, like orchids melting on the moon, like a million fluffy bunnies pureéd in a blender and poured over your creamiest teenage daydream. It was a thick, powdery ultra-floral kind of scent, with a little bit of... I have no idea what the hell it was. Mist? Ocean? Hummingbird spit?
Doesn't matter. Of course what Robyn really smelled like was a completely toxic, chemically blasted all-over body spray, a violently synthetic hellmix of cancer-causing agents made by Johnson & Johnson or Proctor & Gamble or perhaps Dow Chemical. She wore the stuff nearly every day and it had a ridiculous shopping mall name like White Sail or Wind Song or some such cheeseball glop invented deep in the bowels of Product Marketing. ...
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