Mila loved food, probably more than she loved her husband.

She found the question of sweet or savoury rather silly. Why not have both? She would ask.

Sure, some foods had enchanting textures, but what really mattered was how it tasted.

Sweet, salty, umami.

Spicy, bitter.

All honesty, Mila was not a huge fan of the latter.

She would, however, get lost in the flavours either way.

There’s something so magical about the way lasagna is a perfect combination of tastes. She would devour the whole kitchen if she could, just for a particle of something extraordinary.

After the incident, it was never the same.

She’d lost the desire, lost the taste completely.

It started gradually.

She had walked into the coffee shop, a street across from the building she works in, and pure bliss has welcomed her.

Smells of fruity pastries and milky lattes, fumes from the hot chocolate machine erupted and escaped into the warm bakery air.

It was delightful, but something was off.

It felt dull. Maybe this effect was just nocebo, after all it had been a stressful morning.

But that wasn’t it.

Everything was dim, like a light running out of power, or a flame being snuffed. The usual rich scent was masked by… nothing.

Bland. Dim.

Like a veil over a face of beauty.