Instead, the day is humble and static. Those troublesome scents the students spray to spice up their bodies. I smell an astringent, stinging version of Irish Spring, Period 8. Other detectives write about something sophisticated, refined, even. Those trees glimpsed in another world, one of delicious bread, yogurt, and coffee, were comforting and delicious in themselves. Straight up and down to discourage the goats, those good climbers. They are fearless climbers. What I miss most about my teacher is his inflexibility, the conundrum that it was to try to figure out what the heck he was thinking.
Well, that's why they have Hawaiian Miles, I'm thinking, they add up. That's why this place is a popular destination. That's why there is a mystery here, after all. One student told me that you just need to smell something and it fills you up, it can be food (a smell).
The smell of an old report, from long ago called, The Body of No Moment. It filled me up. It smelled like the desert, coconut birthday cake, and lime-green curtains. It was the place to be--still a sidekick and not just a side.
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