Pamplemousse

This morning I dug out a bottle of face cleanser I hadn’t used in a while, the one I can’t buy any more. A creamy foam that left my face feeling smooth and clean.

I squeeze out one of the last drops of a sample moisturizer, the one I haven’t bought for myself yet because it’s forty dollars an ounce. The fragrance is “pamplemousse,” French for grapefruit. It glides over my skin, leaving a citrus perfume in my nostrils.

I open the bottle of my favorite body lotion, the one they’ve discontinued. I put a small dollop of “bergamot coriander” on my wrist and transfer it first to the other wrist, then to my temples.

I go to the kitchen to make myself some tea. Earl Grey. Hot.

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