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He woke slowly, letting the pain going on inside his skull take its own sweet time to register. The aromas of cigarette smoke and scotch hung in the air, while the smell of sweat clung to the sheets of the empty bed.  I can still smell the witch, Jerry thought grimly as the perfumes of last night swirled around him; it was the scent of the woman whose enchantments he could never seem to break free of. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds, as he sat up on the corner of the bed and held his head in his hands.  He groaned and began to rub his temples. It was like this every time.

Nights with her always started out full of excitement and promises and concluded with him falling into slumber in her embrace. When the sun came up, she would always be…