By the Tarp Stand on a Wednesday Evening
It’s a couple with an unexpectedly profitable hobby.
Before them a table of oils is spread like candles at an altar or effigies for the spirits.
Together, though filtered, their scents mix and mangle, too ambiguous, too different, too vague.
But despite this, a middle aged lady who hasn’t gone out in over a year, wanders over, curious, shy, but cozied by the Christmas lights hung around the tent like lanterns.
It shines and shimmers and it glimmers in the night, luminous lux with the warmth of a fireplace.
The stand owner leans just a bit over the table, offering the fragrance her visitor has pointed at with a childish interest.
Peppermint and lavender.
Rose and plum.
And this strange but wonderful scent she’s never heard of: Oud, from the rare evergreens of the Indian subcontinent.
She gets all three. Two for herself, the oud for her husband.
She’s dished out a total of 35 bucks,
For a product that the owner has spent weeks perfecting,
And the partner has spent months designing the boxes and stickers for.
It lasts thrice as long as the perfume she got for Christmas,
And although simpler,
Her husband compliments the choice on their anniversary date.