December had not been an easy month for her in recent years. Ever since her parents passed away, the time of year devoted to lights and family gathering filled her with sadness, reminding her of a reality that was as bitter as it was inescapable: a part of her life was gone and for her, a 45-year-old only child, a new cycle of routines and habits to be broken. Starting with the holidays. The last two Christmases she had spent with her partner's family, surrounded by friendly but unfamiliar relatives, and returning to work in January had been almost a relief. She had therefore welcomed with sincere enthusiasm the arrival of her new colleague, recently hired and destined to share the office with her. "Finally, a breath of fresh air," Marianna had thought as she shook hands with that young and sunny girl. "Nice to meet you, my name is Livia," the other had told her with a smile, and that brief exchange had been enough to make them both feel at ease. Livia came from Tuscany, she had arrived in Milan a few years ago to follow her boyfriend, an engineer at a multinational company. Every morning he sat at his desk and filled the air with a marine, fruity fragrance that Marianna had loved from the start. "It's called Acqua dell'Elba Classica," he had told her. "A perfume that reminds me of summer, of the places of my holidays." A positive spark had been ignited between them: both were quick and precise with the computer, they handled the administration with ease, exchanging advice and comparing notes. After only a few weeks, they were already 'The Formidable Duo' for everyone, and this complicity, which developed so spontaneously and naturally, so quickly, made them a little embarrassed and a little proud. The truth was that, despite the age difference of over ten years, for Marianna, Livia was not just a colleague but a friend, and the feeling was mutual. Every day during their lunch break, the barman waited for them, knowing that the two employees of the company on the third floor would come down and order a coffee and ginseng, consuming them sitting at the table by the window, chatting about this and that. Neither of them had children but both were engaged: they loved travelling, going to the cinema, going out with friends. There was no shortage of arguments, nor was there any shortage of laughter. Observing them, the man wondered if he had ever had the good fortune to converse so easily with someone and the answer he gave himself was no, his friends after a few beers would become annoying and end up discussing politics and war, making him lose the desire to talk. Marianna and Livia, on the other hand, had the gift of levity and moved from one topic to another without ever stumbling into gossip or controversy, and above all - and this was the difficult thing - without ever being superficial. Outside the office they did not meet, each had her own circle of friends, but perhaps - this is what Marianna thought - the beauty of their relationship lay there, in the pleasure of meeting someone every day with whom she could be herself, starting from scratch, without mixing her private life with her work life. Livia knew a lot about her and she knew just as much about Livia, but that divide between 'inside' and 'outside' allowed them both to relax and leave outside the office the burden that daily life inevitably brings. Month after month, December had finally returned, and with it the countdown to Christmas. That year, too, she would be spending it with her partner's family, and the idea of meeting those friendly, less and less unfamiliar relatives landed her less than the year before. Busy decorating the tree and arranging scented candles around the house, she thought back on the year that had just passed, how it had been less sad and melancholic than the previous one, and how the pain of losing her parents had begun to give way to serenity. Her new life, without them, was not so bad: she had a job she liked, a partner she loved, and she was decorating the room with dried flowers and oranges. The fragrance of those compositions reminded her of Livia's perfume, sweet and delicate, like their friendship. It was a perfume that smelled of the sea, of summer, of sunny moments, so indispensable during the greyness of winter. She had realised that if she felt light and purposeful it was thanks to that girl, to the gift of her company, and she felt the need to repay that debt of gratitude with a gift. She had left home and gone to the perfumery, and the next day she had shown up for work a little before her colleague, leaving her a gift on her desk: the Acqua dell'Elba Christmas Note Perfumer, based on orange and jasmine, the notes that filled her dining room. When Livia had arrived and seen the wrapped parcel, she had burst out laughing: "I don't know what you bought me," he told her in his Tuscan accent, “but I have something for you too! Open it on Christmas Day! Take care," he had concluded, placing a small package and a card in her hand. Marianne had waited and unwrapped the thought on Christmas Day itself, between an aunt and a cousin of her companion, reflecting on how nice those people actually were. "Now I open my Tuscan colleague's present, let's see what it is!" she had said aloud amidst everyone's curiosity. Wrapped in a sea-green paper was a bottle of Acqua dell'Elba Arcipelago perfume, with a note: "It's not the same as mine, but it's just as good! Thank you for your beautiful friendship... it is the greatest gift I have received this year".