Write On Edge prompt

This week's prompt was to write something inspired by a picture from the Pinterest website.  I do have to confess, though.  I read a good friend's piece and was inspired by both the picture and what she wrote.  So, thanks J for the added inspiration!  If you want to check out the story piece J wrote that inspired me, click here.  In the mean time, here's the picture and my side of the story...

                                              

                He glanced around the mostly vacant square.  A few drunk tourists were still trying to stumble their way back to their hotels, lost in the fog so common this time of year.  The homeless people had even left to find drier, warmer places.  He, however, loved this.  But he knew it wasn’t going to last much longer.  Dawn was coming soon, he could feel it on his fog dampened skin.   It would be time to hide once again.

                Just as he moved to leave the square, an intoxicating smell reached his nose.  He looked around for the source but couldn’t locate it.  Silently, leaving no trace of his passing, he moved around the square attempting to follow it.  As he came near a row of benches near one of the many old cathedrals that dotted the city, he saw her.

                She looked like she’d had a rough night.  Her make-up was smeared under her eyes, her jeans were wet and her heels lay next to her bare feet on the ground.  Her small purse was propped up next to her on the bench.  She sat on the bench, huddled in on herself.  He watched as one tiny, delicate hand wiped tears away from her face.  She would look tiny next to him, he could tell that from where he watched her in the dwindling shadows.  But, despite her fragile appearance, there was something about her that told him she was so much stronger than she looked.  He could tell she had been drinking, but that wasn’t what he smelled.  It had to be her perfume.  There was something about that perfume he just couldn’t get out of his mind.

                He mentally shook himself and turned to walk away.  He was going to have to get out of there soon or be caught by the dawn.  Yet he couldn’t take those first steps.  He stood for a long time, his back turned to the woman, inhaling that mesmerizing scent.  What was it about that smell, about that woman that he couldn’t get out of his head?