This day, in the captain's desk, there was a letter. It wasn't an official letter, but a red letter, that particular and deep red. If Allen opened it, he would find a paper, as red as the rest. On it, was written: "I love you". And that was it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Except maybe a particular fragrance something familiar, as a perfume. But who? Who had this perfume? Who gave him that letter?
It’s quite a great surprise that he found the letter in the drawer of his desk. Sighing deeply, it took him a good minute just to consider if he should open it. Casting his eyes outside, he noted that there’s no one looking his way. And the curiosity got better of him; the captain picked the red envelope up at last.
Then Allen tore it open with great care. What came to his sense after was a faint fragance that he knows so well. There’s not much to be read in the letter itself, but the smell had told more than any words.
He knows that perfume. It’s the one he choosed for a certain someone, whom he once caught sniffing his cologne. However, he never quite smells it again, not until this day.
What’s the meaning behind this? The man’s baffled for that person now appears to think of their relationtionship as something more than they both initally claimed. Allen stood up from his seat. The lunch break hasn’t over. He feels the great urge to confront the one. No matter what will turn out of them.
