I am terribly sorry. I really am. Nothing pains me more than taking up a greater quantity of time and space than should be allotted to one person, and I truly hope I am not doing that now. Yes, this humble review is a good deal longer than most others, but if I were to shorten it any further than I already have, I believe it would be utterly useless. I have carefully considered the following words, and after lengthy deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that each and every one of them is necessary to provide a robust review of this unique, aromatic elixir.
There was a period of time three years ago during which I was unemployed, with little to fill my days. At first, I found this quite enjoyable. I have spent much of my waking life toiling for the enrichment of others who are significantly more wealthy than I, so it felt nice to be able to spend my time as I pleased, doing as much or as little as suited my current appetite.
I would often spend cool mornings ambling hither and yon, traversing the boulevards of the neighborhood in which I lived, looking into the windows of shops, admiring the warm, inviting smells of cafes and bakeries, and sometimes sitting on a well-worn bench near a small pond in a verdant park.
I will admit that I would occasionally lose myself in delicious daydreams during these delightful detours. I know that it is not at all polite to become unaware of one’s surroundings while on a public thoroughfare, but nevertheless, I would periodically find myself in unfamiliar areas without any recollection of having walked there. This was usually not a problem. I could wander as much as I pleased, paying little attention to where I was going, and instead, feasting my senses on the simple pleasures that surrounded me. Unfortunately, my selfish reveries did get me into a bit of trouble from time to time.
While admiring the sights and sounds of splashing waterfowl as I passed a small yet lively pond, I was struck by an oncoming jogger. I am still uncertain of precisely what happened. I assume that I walked off of my designated lane of the sidewalk and onto the other side, but it is impossible to say for sure. What I do know without a doubt is that the jogger, who was much more sturdily built than I, knocked me to the ground.
Rather than stop to ask if I had been harmed, the man simply continued on his jog, but not before letting fly a great gob of sputum in my direction. Thankfully, he had trouble aiming his wet missile, and I was able to avoid the incredibly insulting embarrassment of having to wipe a stranger’s mucus from my face and body while lying on the filthy sidewalk.
Once I was able to do so, I picked myself up and chased after the shirtless, exercising man who had so rudely clobbered and spat at me. I am generally not one to do such a thing, but I was so upset at the time that I felt compelled to catch up to the stranger to allow him the opportunity to beg my pardon. Of course, I planned to offer him my forgiveness once he had done so. After all, the collision may very well have been at least partially my fault.
After a good deal of running, I reached the man. He had not slowed down, and I believe my sudden appearance by his side frightened him a bit. With a look of surprise and disgust, he stopped his jogging, removed the headphones from his ears, and slapped me across the face with incredible force. I stood there, bewildered, holding my quickly reddening cheek, as my eyes filled with tears. I asked the man why he had done this. I wiped the tears from my eyes, and with a trembling voice, told him that I would not stand for such treatment. I demanded that he apologize for his unacceptable behavior, for knocking me down, spitting toward me, and slapping my one and only face.
It was then that he, with seemingly no effort, lifted me off of the ground, carried me across the street, and threw me into a large, marble fountain which sat in front of a towering municipal building. He once again spat at me, turned, and continued on his jog. I was dumbfounded.
I sat in the fountain for some time until a security guard approached me, telling me that I would need to leave. I tried to explain what had happened, but he quickly stopped me and said that he had watched the entire scene unfold. I asked him why he hadn’t attempted to intercede, but he simply repeated that I must leave immediately unless I wished for him to contact law enforcement. With this, I stood and began my long, damp journey home.
This awful incident stuck with me for quite some time. I would often wake up in the middle of the night, screaming, thrashing about, feeling as if I were being carried toward the fountain by the monstrous jogger. These nightmares continued for months. It wasn’t until nearly a year later that, by pure accident, I came upon Good Morning by Jusbox in a perfume seller’s shop. Upon removing the cap and smelling this redolent fragrance, I was transported. I was immediately reminded of the smell and feeling of sitting in the cool, clear fountain water on that fateful summer morning.
It may seem counterintuitive to want to envelop one’s self in something that reminds one of such an awful time, but I felt that doing so might help conquer my incessant nightmares and flashbacks. I asked the shop’s owner if I might purchase a full bottle of this intriguing brew. She confirmed that there were several in stock. She left me and returned a moment later with the attractive bottle in hand. It was then that I remembered that I had been mugged at gunpoint just twenty minutes prior, and as such, I was then without my billfold.
With great embarrassment, I apologized and left the shop empty handed. Even after I had replaced my bank cards and purse, I never did return to purchase the bottle of Good Morning by Jusbox. You see, the nightmares had stopped. It only took a single sniff to bring me back to that awful moment, and in doing so, vanquish the painful memory which had been haunting me.
The odor was the cure, and for that, I am sincerely thankful.
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