I hate the smell of other people’s houses. Even the houses that smell good. I only like the smell of my own. But I don’t have one.
And now that I think about, I do recall, vaguely, the smell of a house that was more to my liking. It was my first boyfriend’s house. He was renting, actually. Like I said, I can’t tell you what the places smelled like but it will always reminded me of sex. Because it was where I lost my virginity.
It smelled of wood, if I had to venture a guess. Sour wood. Yes, sour.