Country boy

He smells like ice cold lemonade on a hot summer day. Sitting on the wooden rocking chair out on the front porch. As the hot, dry, dusty wind sends the corn stalks rattling, it hits the sweat on your neck which only increases the heat. This heat flows into your head and settles in your chest. It travels down your arm to your fingertips, but the glass in your hand sweats itself. Beads of cold drip over your fingers, sliding down your wrist, staving off the heat. Even your breath is hot; drying your cracked lips. The smell of the corn, the dust, even the smell of the heat, swirl in the air, suffocating. You feel drowsy, until a hint of something sweet, sweeter than the corn, tickles your nose. The shock of sour-sweet lemons coming from the glass triggers your thirst. The haze ┬áhas made your limbs heavy, and a heat of your own throbs in your center; they pull away as you bring the glass to your lips. The rim is warm from the ambient heat, but the cold comes back quickly as the liquid spills forward. The cracks in your lips give a sharp sting from the sour. You are exhausted of being hot and thirsty. You tilt the glass back, taking big gulps. The thirst fades, and the cold spreads, sending tingles throughout your body. The sweet, and the tang with the hint of salt from your own sweat. The clink of the ice. The hush of the wind and corn. The creak of the rocking chair. That’s what he smells like.



–smell of Lindsey McDonald played by Christian Kane from “Angel,” (Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 1999)


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