During the night

Prague, 1 a.m., and I find myself on a couch, naked.

He thought it would make a fine beginning to a story. It had all the three components of a good rhetorical proposition.
A magical place. A fine hour at which the built up layers of reality start to peel off. And an erotic touch to it that would catch anyone who hasn't been intrigued yet.

The only thing that disturbed his senses, though, was a sweet smell coming from the windowsill. He looked at the flowerpot. This is going to be important. But he hasn't yet known how.