A Short Story About Love

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A Perfume of One's Own

Olivia's alone in a restaurant, sitting by herself and staring out the window at all the people passing by, many of whom have never had their hearts broken by a bestubbled scalawag named Peter. How we all envy them! Melancholy, unsurprisingly, seems to suit Olivia. She looks amazing. Whenever I got my heart broken, it usually meant a weekend bender following a day of recovery where I didn't leave my room and just listened to the Cure nonstop. Olivia's way seems better.

Nina comes in and gives Olivia a kiss on the head before telling her that they're completely reevaluating their security measures after what "that woman" did. "I wanted to give you time to collect your thoughts. I know when there's something you want to talk about," Nina tells her.

So Olivia starts talking about how she's in love with Peter. "I know it sounds absurd to you. But it's like I've known him my entire life. And everybody, including him, keeps telling me that it's impossible," she says. Not impossible, Olivia. Unholy. There's a difference! Nina asks about the Peter-projecting-his-memories theory and Olivia says that she can remember things that Peter couldn't have known, like details of cases he wasn't on. "I don't know how this is happening, but... I'm scared."

Nina assures her that they're going to find out what's happening with her. And as for Peter, all wounds heal over time. Olivia says she wishes the time would move a little quicker. Well, that's what Cabo is for Olivia. (Unsurprisingly, Nina says Massive Dynamic just filed a patent on the time thing last week.)

Olivia smiles and says it's good to see her and they should do this more often, making Nina's smile fades. "We always have breakfast together on Saturday mornings. We were here last week," she says. No, yeah, Olivia means you should do it twice a week, right? No, that's not what Olivia means. She doesn't remember that this is a weekly thing, and now Nina's getting worried: "You're having these experiences at what cost?" Olivia sits back and thinks about it for a moment, and then nods. She says she'll talk to Walter.

Elsewhere, a woman arrives at her darkened home and plays the one message on her answering machine: "Hey, Jane. It's Celia. God, it was a beautiful service." While she listens, we see someone in the shadows open a little vial of yellow liquid that I assumed at first was Cortexiphan. Whoever it is -- we can see a heavily scarred face -- daubs a little on his neck, while Celia finishes up her message to Jane by telling her to call if she needs anything.

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