DESCRIBED AS:
Crisp, bright lemon softened with vanilla—as clean and fresh as an April shower.
SMELLS LIKE stepping out of a movie theater, and, through the window, you notice that, while you were watching your film and basking in the dark with a crowd of strangers all in one room for the same reason, it started to rain, and you didn’t plan for rain, and your car is at the other end of the parking lot, and you don’t have an umbrella, but you’re still high on movie magic and decide that umbrellas are for chumps, so you step out, through the crowd of hesitant families, and distressed onlookers, and you run through the falling wet, like a mad animal, like a wild storm, and you laugh louder with every step as you run, run, run, and your shoes and socks and pant-legs are soaked and slapping against your legs, but you just run all the faster, laughing so loud you can’t close your mouth, and each fat drop of rain catches in your mouth like a joyous bucket, plinking with a steady stream of drops, and the water is all the sweeter from the electric crackle of rain drumming the pavement with every drop, and you can’t believe all those nervous people still inside are missing out on how this SOUNDS.