2.6 No Summer Wax
Tuesday. Morning. Jeep.
I made my way to the seat nearest to the driver and looked out the window as I waited for it to move. The breeze brushed my cheeks, along with it the aroma of tropical fruits, trash-filled-canals, and smoke from an outdoor grill along Blumentritt.
Apart from this was a different fragrance and it surprisingly came from this man in a powder blue button-up polo who just boarded the vehicle and sat beside me. To me men's perfume generally smell the same. But I knew for a fact that this time it wasn't the case - it was the wax on his hair. I don't know why, but my nose says it is a little bit different. It's odd when it's in the container it doesn't smell as good, but when it reaches the head of some guy it becomes amazingly nice. My older brother seldom uses it, mostly my younger brother does. He wears it before going to school, so I only get a sniff during the school year. When there's no wax-on-the-head-smell, I know it's still summer.