Monday, September 18, 2017

1139. Detergent

I was sitting on the floor in the closet swapping our old door knobs for modern silver ones.
The air was thick with the smell of my clothes--a mixture of the deodorant I always used and whichever laundry detergent had been last marked down at the supermarket.
This reminded me strongly of hiding in my parents closet as a boy and the smell of my father's clothes; deodorant and detergent, yes, but also the deep bass note of aftershave.
I was there the whole of the robbery, officer, trying to remember which brand he favoured.