Cigarettes and Aftershave

I walked into the elevator at work the other day and it smelled like cigarettes and aftershave.

It brought tears to my eyes.

It wasn’t the sensory overload. I just hadn’t smelled that particular blend in a long time, and it reminded me of my father.

Then I realized that the tenth anniversary of his death was last April, and that I didn’t even stop to remember him. Then.

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