I remember your first date. You bought a Christmas tree on the street. He was tall and you were a wild woman. He wore shorts in winter and you were stylish.
Those stylish trends are things of the past; they’re old now, and maybe in another ten years they’ll be new again.
Christmas smells like your first date???—???like keeping warm in the cold. Christmas smells like laughs and exhales and perfect lips made for perfect kisses.
Christmas smells like excitement. The pine, freshly cut. Everything in the store is in the wrong place. Lights change color; I dare you not to wonder.