Harvey pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to squeeze out some of the tension forming around his eyes.

He’d been to a Thai massage parlour recently. A beautiful place that just seemed to perpetually smell like sandalwood. It hung in the air, thick but still light, and pleasing in an odd way. And so much red laquered wood that he guessed was probably the sandalwood, but didn’t know for sure as he’d never seen it as anything other than a scent for oil burners. He assumed it was some kind of wood at the very least, although a lot of things had a peculiar habit of being named for things that they clearly weren’t.

Like “sweet breads”, something he was intent to never order for dessert again if he could help it. The memory of the place filled his consciousness, and again his nosed promptly flooded with the olfactory recollection. His supraspinatus could feel the pounding of hands that seemed to grip like iron, but were gentle enough to relieve the aching tension that seemed to perpetually bubble beneath his flesh in that particular spot to the point that his neck would be slightly askew some days. The last thing they did before sending him on his way was to massage his face in a manner that not only relieved the scowl that was by now a nearly permanent fixture, but also clearly demonstrated that they could crush his skull at any point they wanted to during the fifty-five minutes in which they caressed his naked, oiled body. I’m going to have to get some sandalwood incense for in here, he thought to himself.

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