the Chalice of D.C.

This girl walked by me at work, and a wave of her perfume hit me and brought back a vivid memory of a pub in Washington D.C. More specifically, the smell made me think instantly of these cold tin cups we were drinking out of, which gave the soda held within, an odd, floral taste (I didn't understand at the time, nor do I now, how a metal cup, or chalice, more like, could produce a flower-like tinge). I was just langourously walking back to my desk, after washing my hands for the third time since arriving at work (it's a time consumption method thing) and her passing me, with whatever perfume she was wearing (one, I'll add, that I surely haven't smelled in at LEAST 9 years, because I'm confident that, had I smelled it before, I'd have made the same olfactory based connection) singularly triggered me to want, to reach for something. Typically, nothing in this office send off any bells in any part of me. In fact, the loudest symbolic noise I experience while here is usually a silent scream to be out of here. How refreshing it was, then, to be knocked out of my usual stupor of repetition. I lost the scent now. And by that, I mean the memory of what it smelled like. It was that kind of thing where your mind has an experience on its own, and pretty much leaves you out it. You're just a spectator, and once it's gone, it's gone. I didn't have a part in the nostalgic connection, it happened without my assistence or acceptance, and it's left me in a similar fashion. It did, however, pull me to click Start > All Programs > Accessories > Notepad, and type these words.