I walk down Main, putting my feet down hard (Hard!). The air smells, not unpleasantly, of apples. New fresh ones with scents like flowers.
I walk, crossing the street without the help of the glowering crossing guard. I walk up the street towards the library, past the restaurant with the dangling parrots. The air smells, divinely, of Colombian food.
I walk. Up towards the library, past the Elk Club with its riots of orange marigolds serving as a border for the somber building. In the years I have walked past this place, this is the first time I�ve actually smelled them. The scent is ticklish and thick.
I go into the library, which has no smell at all.
And then I turn around and walk back.
I go to the Colombian coffee shop, which smells, not unpleasantly, of coffee grounds. I linger in the steel rum clamor for a while, relaxing with my cheap coffee.
I wander my way down Main again. The air begins to smell differently�like cigarette butts.
I continue, and the air fills with that bad chemical smell that comes off the river on hot, still days in the spring. That�s when they do the most dumping, generally.