It was a wierdly cold fall day and we turned the themostat all way over to the red portion, waking the heater from its year-long slumber. After a couple of minutes, there was a dangerous whiff in the air, one akin to smoke, one that is sometimes associated with fires. Nothing was visible though — no smoke, no haze, no sudden onset of cateract. It conjured images in my mind, this smell, mostly of Marshmallows, damp picnic towels, my high school science lab, my pretty and squeamish lab partner — ah, all the associations from this woody, oaky smell with a high-note of smoky. Yet, gradually and subtlely, my warm memories were slowly being replaced by terabytes worth of media-soaked images – I thought of the movie Backdraft, of 9-11, of the latest Rambo, of bush fires in Australia.
I tend to overthink. Because right then, I looked up and there were already firemen all over the office.
Thank God everything was alright!
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