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Pear Drops

I recognised the smell, that sharp sweetness that always used to make my tongue water. It was in my bathroom. It came from nowhere and didn’t last long. Some say that visiting spirits carry scents with them, or at least smells that evoke memories in us. Pear drops in paper bags measured out in the sweet shop up the road from us. Pink and yellow hard-boiled sweets dusted with icing sugar that made your mouth pink. It made me feel a little happy that smell.

A new commission just when I thought everything had stopped. It pleases me more than him. I want to contribute, to be useful. My own work must be put to one side, just for the moment. And that’s OK. It’s always been about a balance.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.