Elementary school. I remember walking through the halls and smelling the kids' posters on the walls; the crayons the table in the classroom; that wood chip scent that emanated off the little school chairs. With my white shoes tapping, I walked proudly with my bright turquoise socks after a trail of scent that had lingered faintly that morning. It was Mrs. Dawn, she smelled of comfort, flowers and a hint of vanilla. She smiled at me and I ran in for a hug, especially to envelope myself in her beautiful scent. To this day, I haven't figured out which perfume she wore. I catch it sometimes but never soon enough to ask its wearer what it's called.

- Dana Masri