There are some scents that remind me of times in my life. I was walking down Bergen Street and I smelled clove cigarettes. I was brought back to being 15 years old and just entering Performing Arts High School. I remember leaving school at 3 o’clock and smelling that sweet smell on Amsterdam Avenue. I wasn’t a smoker. In fact, I was vehemently against smoking. I knew it caused lung cancer and I wasn’t putting myself anywhere near a cigarette. Yet there was something in enchanting about these clove cigarettes. If I ever wanted to smoke I could imagine inhaling one of these it. But I never did. The sugary sent of this small object haunted me in a sensual way. It tease me but I would never give in. I’d forgotten all about my forbidden romance until today when I smelled that familiar scent. It took me back to a place I thought no longer existed. I’m happy it’s still there.