The night air smells cold. This might sound stupid, but it's true. There's no overpowering smell of dust or rain or smoke. It just smells crisp as it filters through my flyscreen. I'm sure if you tried, you could pull some metaphor out of it all, but for now, I just enjoy the refreshing sensation flood my senses.
For a fleeting moment I feel trapped within the walls of the stuffy house, longing for the feeling of smooth cement under my feet and my hair whipping around my face. Not you typical "teenage dream", granted, but just as vivid. The moment passes and I go back to my original plan.
I'm meant to be closing the window, but I decide to drink in the crisp scent for a moment longer. I pretend it's washing me, forgiving me. I smile and close the window.
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