This would be her first time on a train, and a first among other things.
It was a Tuesday and they were standing packed like sardines inside the silver train car as it shot along the tracks. She felt the rumbling beneath her feet, and she wondered how fast they were going. Her father was behind her, standing with his hand above her head , gripping the same pole as her to steady themselves. She could smell his cologne, she always liked the smell of his cologne, and was thankful he’d seemed to put on extra today, because it masked the odor of whoever decided Thai food was good idea to eat in public transport, and the smell of the man who had his arm raised near her that clearly didn’t partake in the tradition of wearing deodorant.
They were on their way into the city, and Paul couldn’t wait to get himself out of the train, and just like his daughter Karla was thankful for his cologne, he was thankful for the way that she smelled. He concentrated on her scent, trying to distinguish what part of her smelled so delicious, and what the scents were that mixed together. He inhaled her hair, it smelled like fruit. Strawberries he gathered. But he smelled something else as well, and casually sniffed near her shoulder, and could smell warm vanilla.