
There’s a smell in the air and a change to the breeze that cues my body.
The smell of pumpkin spice does not comfort me.
Passersby delight in sporting their hoodie while I look upon them as if they are foreign.
I am the one who is foreign here.
Journey to a Memoir
There’s a smell in the air and a change to the breeze that cues my body.
The smell of pumpkin spice does not comfort me.
Passersby delight in sporting their hoodie while I look upon them as if they are foreign.
I am the one who is foreign here.