Saturday, 31 January 2015
A scent of January (write of passage number thirty-five)
Dazzled, we find seats. I've just got warm enough to remove my hat and gloves when a tall girl boards the bus somewhere in Lowertown. Her dark brown hair with wavy strands of gold emerge from beneath her toque and blend with the faux fur of her hood. She lowers herself into the seat ahead of me and I feel a cool halo; a frosty fragrance brushes my cheeks and forehead, before it slowly warms and fades.