It had been months since she had touched me. Whether she had another lover or not, I didn’t know, although I could have found out easily — a quick look into her eyes when she would come to my house straight from work, her whole body smelling of camphor. A peek into the photos on her computer, if she chose to leave it overnight, as she sometimes did when she decided to stay for two days in a row. I knew the password because she kept it the same for everything — ATEVA004! — and I knew this password because she trusted me with it. She trusted me with everything--money, watches, bills, time. So what right did I, her chosen confidant, have to doubt her?
Her official title was “Topical formulation scientist”, mixing and measuring and melting ingredients to make pain ointment for a famous Chinese company. The work was not enjoyable for her; monotonous, uncreative. At night as I tucked my head into the crease of her armpit, she would tell me what she really wanted to be:a perfumer, developi...