The Last Glimmer
A scent story inspired by Kilian: Angel’s Share
The bar was quiet now, its earlier hum of conversation and laughter reduced to the occasional clink of a glass being polished. The bartender had long since stopped taking orders, leaving the three of them to linger in the afterglow of a night well spent. The hotel bar, tucked into the corner of a grand lobby, glowed with the warm hues of burgundy and gold, its velvet chairs and gilded accents exuding a timeless charm.
They sat near the corner, a trio of friends draped over the leather banquettes, each cradling a glass of something rich and amber. The air was heavy with warmth the faint spice of cinnamon from their drinks mingling with the sweetness of vanilla and oak. The low light caught the surface of the cognac in their glasses, golden flashes that danced with every tilt.
One of them leaned back, a soft laugh escaping as she let her head rest against the tufted upholstery. “You see?” she said, her voice warm and unhurried.. “This is exactly what I meant.” She lifted the glass to eye level, watching how the light refracted through its amber depths, a slow smile spreading across her face.
The man to her left nodded, his glass resting lightly in his hand as though it belonged there. “It’s the stillness,” he replied, his tone low and reflective. He took a sip, his eyes narrowing slightly as the smooth heat of the cognac spread through him. The faint sweetness lingered candied almonds, maybe, or something darker and richer he couldn’t quite name.
Beside him a woman with tousled hair wears a velvet jacket that is intent on slipping from her shoulders, like her it had grown tired of keeping up appearances. Tracing the rim of her glass with a lazy finger, she replied. “It’s more than stillness,”, her voice thoughtful but carrying the faint air of someone gearing up to deliver a revelation. “It’s the layers. The way everything unravels.” She lifted the glass, tilting it slightly so the liquid caught the light, as though it were some golden elixir of wisdom. Taking a slow sip, she let the interplay of spice and sweetness linger, the warmth of cinnamon mixing with the silky depth of oak and praline. “You don’t notice the complexity,” she concluded with a wry smile, “until you stop long enough to taste it or maybe until you’ve had enough to start sounding profound.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the room around them cocooning their conversation in soft light and quiet luxury. Outside, the city stretched into the night, but inside, time seemed to fold in on itself, held steady by the warmth of their connection and the heady richness of their drinks.
The bartender moved through the room, collecting empty glasses and turning off the last of the sconces. He glanced at them but said nothing. They weren’t in his way, they were part of the room now. The three of them woven into its fabric like the gleam of gold on the shelves and the lingering trace of spiced sweetness in the air.
One of them raised a glass, his smile breaking the comfortable silence. “To bad decisions and even better stories,” he declared, the glint in his eye daring the others to disagree. The toast was met with laughter, the kind that lingered like the warmth of their drinks, and they all raised their glasses in unison. The soft chime of crystal meeting crystal rang out, carrying with it the promise of memories they’d embellish for years to come.
And as they leaned back, content to let the last moments of the evening stretch just a little further, the room seemed to hold its breath, preserving the memory in the rich hues of burgundy and gold in perfect, fleeting harmony.
