Mauvais Garçon

Sometimes love doesn't smell like roses, but like smoke after a quarrel. It warms you, but it burns you to blisters. It seems simple enough: a bad boy, a sick attachment, other people's advice to ‘run while you still can’... But inside, there is that very hope that tomorrow he will wake up a different person. Softer, more attentive, even just a little bit.

But the morning smells of regret again, and only after the hundredth ‘I have to leave’ does a quiet strength suddenly come - to choose yourself. Without shouting, without drama, just walk out and breathe for the first time in a long time. Air without the smell of someone else's character.