Usually he shaved in the shower. This time
he used the Maca root shave cream bought some
years back at the Body Shop in Djakarta. He ran his hand
over his chin which felt smooth, luxurious, clean.
He still had some Jaguar in a simple but stylish green
bottle with its silver stopper. The scent was immediate
and so distinct. Not sweet but intensely fragrant.
He had been eking out this lotion for years
since receiving it from his mother on one of her flights
from Europe to the Mother City. It was exactly the kind of gift
she would select – expensive, high quality and somewhat arcane.
He had never seen another bottle of Jaguar anywhere.
It was special, in itself and as a unique, one-off memory.
He would never again receive that Jaguar lotion from his mother,
as he would never again live this moment
or any other. There was no point in trying to replace
the precious bottle − the new one might prove to be
a subtle ‘improvement’ or more profitable facsimile,
but almost certainly the replacement would dilute his memory.
Nor was there any point in saving the dregs.
He splashed on some more,
and quietly saluted his mother.
*Photo credit: Axel Adelbert