The smell was sharp but comforting—not artificial, but warm and natural. I tasted it.

Perfect.

Just like I remembered.

But something felt… off.

The jar itself.

It looked old—but the bottom wasn’t smooth like it should have been.

I turned it over.

Nothing.

Maybe I was overthinking.

I opened another.

Then another.

When I reached the twelfth jar, I froze.

At the base, beneath a thin layer of dried clay, there were faint engravings.

I scratched gently.

Letters appeared.

“Rooster time. Three. Seven. Mesquite tree. Shade.”

My heart skipped.

This wasn’t random.

It was a message.

A code.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

The words repeated in my mind like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Who was it for?

Why hide it like this?

Unless…