Sometimes - only once in a very small while - the air smells so good outside that I just want to breathe in more than I am physically able. I become conscious of my own breathing; the exhales are now a mere waiting period for the next inhale.
. . .I think this happens mainly in May.
I move closer to the open window.
And then, its funny, but three floors down someone lights a cigarette and that tiny little stick of burning organic matter is capable of entirely consuming the smell of spring.
It's quite amazing even with the whole huge outdoors and how big spring is, that one tiny source can emit such a smell that competes and overpowers all the goodness that is outside right now.
I cannot help but note the contrast of what might be the best smell ever with one of the most horribly offensive.

(My extreme aversion to second-hand smoke likely stems from my childhood. My dad would light up in the car on the way home from well, anywhere, and it would be january-type cold, the window down a bit, blowing icy air into my face in the backseat. I would beg him to close the window, and then when he did the smell made my head spin. He would smoke in the house too, but things are always easier to deal with when you aren't cold).
ahhh, scent and memory.

Hm, they must be done.

inhale. . .