my job is a boring carpet to walk, usually done so in that reverse-zen zombielike state of awareness; aware you hate your job, aware you are tired, aware of everything going on around you and everyone else’s life because your job requires the thought and energy of one percent of your brain. Then thankfully, occassionally, a thing will happen and you can use two or three percent, and one of those days for me was yesterday, when a humped over old man came hump walking into my job.
I didnt pay much attention to him at first, though i guess enough that i could point him out to you if i needed to; his old floppy hat and giant glasses, his warm 70’s couch fabric coat. His stance like a candy cane. It wasnt until i walked by him that i realized his greatness.
He reeked of a diner breakfast.
omletes and coffee and a plate of greasy home fries, this was his scent. it was magnificent and compelling and i couldnt stop smelling him and following him around. i wanted to smell his coat. i wanted to taste his old man head and see if it tasted like syrup.
he left after a half hour of so and with him left the smell of his morning. I miss him.