My Short Story

The Chambermaid

    I found the letter under your bed. Camouflaged among the usual trash there, turned yellow by the time and brittle because of so much years wasted to attract a little of your attention. The scent never did its trick; from a couple years of saving my salary, cent after every cent. I had torn up the letter for you.
    I flushed the content of the delicate perfume bottle down the toilet, and took an oath not to believe in fairytales all over again.