The Man I Smelled at the Post Office
I went to the Post Office today, and I smelled him as soon as I opened the double doors. As memories flooded back, I look up at him buttoning his Sergeant uniform while determining, "that is the most handsome man on earth", I reluctantly lean over the engine of my Butterscotch-hued and racing-striped Ford LTD II while he explains to me the fine art of checking the oil as he wipes off the dipstick with a grungy rag, I pout as I wait outside by the mailbox because he is late once again for his custody weekend, I see him throwing soda and beer cans in the swiftly rippling creek for me to sink, while I pump the handle of the pellet rifle and take aim, I wince at his attempt to correct me through lecturing and hate him for a moment. I smelled him as I filed in line behind the scent-bearer who scooted the TV-sized box along the floor with his right foot toward the counter. Reminiscing, I see him ripping open a Christmas present: Brut Cologne in that Army plastic green bottle with a...