Secret

One thing I have repeatedly complained about is the overuse and varieties of perfumes and colognes on board the train. Mornings are unique to this typically since most people have faded into a post-work funk by afternoon. 

This morning is a little different because there still is the cloud of flowers and musk, but there are a few secret smells mixed in. Among these front-staring folks heading into town are some troubled people. The lady next to me has three distinct scents: a vague floral smell, the sweet cherry menthol of a cough drop, and the vinegar-sweat smell of an entire bottle of wine. She looks flush, but it's not from the cold. 

I want to tell her she isn't fooling anybody with the cough drop, but it's none of my business. That lossenge is her veil, and while we both can see through it, it's still rude to ask who died.