Carmen's Candles | ✔

It was a freezing February afternoon with a chance of thunder. Already the rain had cued, pelting the streets with sharp droplets. Bell chimes signified my presence when I yanked open the door, their soft calls delivered without a rowdy announcement. Wet soles squeaked against white tiles, a noise of discomfort. Warmth sank into my skin and thawed out my chills.

     A steady serenity flooded my senses the moment I rushed inside, followed by a delicate fragrance I couldn't quite distinguish. Oddly enough, the tranquil aroma that hugged the store smelled something like dewdrops collected in a golden dawn or a garden of ripe roses-

     "Hello," a woman of plump and stout stature chirped, cutting off my train of thought. With a smooth sidestep, she slipped away from one of the shelves she had been tending to and approached me. In bold cursive, the name tag attached to her orange shirt flashed CARMEN.

     "Hello," I echoed back, though in a monotone that clashed with her sunny nature.

     "Welcome to Carmen's Candles. As you already know, my name is Carmen," one of her hands rested against her chest, where her heart resided, "and I'm here to assist you. Would you like me to start by showing you around?"

     "Okay."

     "Great. Follow me."

     With that, she turned her back, her ruby earrings winking at me. As I tailed behind her, mimicking her expert sense of direction, I soaked in the gathering of candles that had begun to crowd around us. Each jar, which was sealed tight with a metal cap, was color-coded an individual scent.

     "Your name is Oscar, correct?" Carmen asked. "Just wanna make sure."

     "It's Oscar," I confirmed.

     "Good to know. I've been expecting you after contacting to you through email. We haven't spoken much about what kind of candle you'd like or your preferences, but we can work it out." While humming a foreign and soft melody, her manicured fingers crawled their way up to a jar. "Since this seems like your first time here, lemme introduce you to this candle. It's a popular classic." With a twist, she tugged the cap off and offered me a whiff. A pool of blue wax greeted me.

     The second I inhaled, the salt of tears washed over me as black memories wormed their way inside the caliber of my mind. Scenes of me being raised behind iron bars and stone-faced scientists flashed before my eyes and swirled together to depict a watercolor canvas of the past.

     A gasp shuddered from me as I jerked back.

     "What was that?"

     Carmen, who was unfazed by my reaction, pushed the cap back on. "Sorrow."

     A frown wrinkled my brow. "Sorrow?"

     "Sorrow. That's the name of the scent you smelled."

     "Sorrow," I repeated, still numb with disbelief. "I smelled sorrow."

     "Did you feel it?" she asked, an omniscient vibe hidden in her smile. "Did you live through sadness, even if for a second?"

     A pair of wide eyes reflected back at her. I was speechless, unable to conduct a response for anything.

     As if she expected my silence, she tucked the candle back in its original spot. "Perhaps you'll reconsider it later. Here, I'll show you another one." She grabbed a yellow-white jar, uncapped it, and thrust it in my face.

     Sugar.

     When I caught a sniff, I dove into an all-natural perfume known as sugar. Flashbacks of all-dessert picnics and visits at the local bakery came to life. Since my first time tasting them, I have always been enticed by sweets, and now the smell of cookies and cakes were a strong temptation I found difficult to resist.