The city smells strange tonight. Not bad, not good, just . . . strange. I fly atop gray pavement, yellow lines shooting past like a thousand laser beams. Driving through the city, you can almost tell where you are just by scent alone. The General Mills plant sends the sweet smell of grains into the air. You can't help but want to close your eyes and breathe deeply, taking in that whole grain oxygen. Sadly, I can't reach that pure relaxation right now, unless a trip to the sanitized scents of Mercy Hospital is added to by open itinerary.
The smell of sweet grain is suddenly severed and replaced with the sharp and intoxicating smell of gasoline and oil. Looking around on the thruway, you can't see where the scent would be coming from, but just beyond a hill lies rows of factories, processing and distributing, manufacturing and selling, oil and oil based products. The smells of the factories ravage me. I long for that almost edible air I left miles behind. Pressing down the gas petal, I rush to escape that pungent odor. The lines in the road blend and I chuckle to myself as I pass 88mph. Oh, to only be able to go back to the future.
Almost as if a window opened in an exhaust filled room, the horrid stench passes and is replaced by the smell of flowing, fresh water. The lights from the city play off the gentle waves bounding up and down, almost matching my quick pace stride for stride. I take a moment and slow down, moving to the side of the road and kicking on my hazard lights. I take in that fresh water aroma, cleaning my senses in that crystal blue air. Not much time to dally, though, I have appointments to keep. I turn back on the road and turn off my hazard lights, breathing deeply to keep that final scent of the city in mind. Of all the scents I crossed today, those mentioned and those unmentioned, they combine and tell me something that I finally realize, that I'm home.
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