It’s too cold to walk outside when I get off the train in the morning. I’m cold-adverse.
I walk underground to get to my building and I can map out where I am on this 10-minute walk through my sense of smell. Union station is a mish-mash of the hot, oily odour of McDonalds french fries and the overpowering aroma of cinnamon and sugar from the nearby Cinnibon. Somehow it works.
There are wafts of burnt coffee as I pass the Second Cup and then a burst of cold air as I emerge outside for the 10 second jump into the BCE underground. Once inside I pass a bagel place that seems to be everyone’s favourite breakfast spot. The smell of eggs, ketchup and toast seems so homemade. Then I pass the Marche where they always seem to be frying cheese-covered chicken wings in a vat of oil. At least that’s what it smells like.
No wonder I’m hungry once I get to my desk.
2 comments:
As I read your post, I started to salivate ferociously! It's sounds like a nice way to get to work in the morning. After all, it is your constitutional right.
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