Photo by Hide Obara on Unsplash

You’ve felt it before. It hits your nose like a crisp awakening on a starry December night. Cold, dark, the view still pleases.
Chimneys host what burns silvery particles of delight.
But it’s the aroma that awakens a wistfulness from many Christmases past—the ones spent in Patton leather shoes and the objectionable winter white tights.

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A quarantine memoir

Photo by L B on Unsplash

Lo walks home to water the plants.

When she arrives, she finds herself lurking — rolling out drawers, opening the cabinets, touching the clothes. She sifts through the jewelry box with fascination. Then on her wrist, she rolls perfume, bringing her back to the crisp October air of last year. It reminded her of a life, once lived under tailored clothes. Dimly lit dinners, paired with crudités, and Gevrey-Chambertin…paid for by her 80 hour work weeks. And then Lo remembered that she was home.

To water the plants.

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Laura Flowers

Creative copywriter and content strategist with a soft spot for authentic consumer goods and a surging admiration for outdoor recreation.