My favorite part about my trips wasn't the trip itself but the aftermath. Even if I didn't remember every little detail off the top of my head, I knew I took a photo of it. Going through them all and editing them was like living the excitement all over again. Pulling out my laptop and connecting my camera to it after a long expedition was like a ritual to me. I could spend hours curled up on my couch going through every moment that I captured. I knew that if felt the same happiness I did when I took the photo then I did a good job.

The immense stature of the Sequoia trees illuminated my face through the screen's blue light. The photo's perspective illustrates how large in comparison they are to our benign human selves. I subconsciously thanked whatever force there was for the heavenly lighting that softly shone through the leaves of General Sherman.

As I play with the photo's settings, tinkering with the saturation and shadows, I notice two small figures covertly hiding in the designated walkways. I squint my eyes and zoom in before pulling back in shock and covering my mouth in a silent gasp.

The crisp air weaved through my hair as I dropped on my knee in front of the world's national monuments. I was tired from waking up so early but witnessing Sherman for myself absolved all exhaustion. I spent an indeterminable time testing angles and positions, not noticing how my boyfriend and best friend left me alone. I always tried to make my expeditions like vacations and invited people I'd enjoy my time with. Usually, it was my boyfriend but lately my best friend has been sad so I invited them both. She was depressed after her boyfriend broke up with her so I thought some time away would do her good. Apparently too much so.

When I finished my photo op I didn't even realize they had left, too engrossed with how the immense trees looked through my camera. Looking back I should've noticed how her lipstick was smudged or how when I went to kiss my boyfriend, he smelled just like cherry blossoms. The same scent as her damn perfume.

My phenomenal photo of General Sherman was forever tainted by the small glimpse of them kissing in the background.

Multiple questions ran through my mind: When did it start? How long? Did she get with him before or after her breakup? Was my boyfriend the reason why they broke up? Did he know? How could they? The realization that the most important people in my life betrayed me with each other twisted my stomach in disgust.

I tried to rack my brain for signs that I must've missed, something that should've told me that something was wrong. But I couldn't think of anything, and maybe that within itself was a sign of things slowly deteriorating. I always thought my boyfriend was overexaggerating when he said I focused more on my camera than him. Even if I was distant in my relationship, that didn't give him the right to cheat on me. Especially not with my best friend, yet she shouldn't even have reciprocated anything. God, another question, who initiated it first? I was beyond furious, hurt, and betrayed.

The sound of keys jingling at the front door broke me away from my thoughts. I watched as my boyfriend tiredly grumbled a weak 'hey' as he began to take off his coat. When I didn't respond he looked at me confused with mild concern.

"What happened? Why are you crying?"

He started to walk towards me as I touched my face to feel a salty wetness on my cheeks. I looked at him in disbelief.

"We need to talk." I could feel my demeanor radiate anger as I saw his face drain of color, eyes glancing at my still-opened laptop screen. Needless to say, I would be going on future trips alone.

It started with a sharp pain in the back of my head then an abrupt chime. I opened my heavy eyes and lifted myself up, that same chime thrashing in my ears, obscuring my thoughts. Out of annoyance, I jolted up ready to strike whatever made that too-cheerful jingle. Only for it to stop.

My need to find out where I was overtook my desire to cradle my throbbing head, the overhead light not helping at all. I frantically searched the room that had no doors, no windows, no way out. The white room was barren, only a bed, table, chair, and a sad corner that vaguely resembled a bathroom. In a funny way, the corner had a small wall that prevented others from seeing your business.

I held my head in frustration. The room was eerily sterile, not a spec of dust or dirt to indicate any human presence. There must be an exit, if I was able to enter then there has to be a way out of this predicament. I covered my eyes in my defeated head, trying to break away from my reality when I was startled by the chime that woke me up. Lifting my head I watched in anticipation as one of the walls started to recede in the shape of a small square. Slowly, the wall pulled back into itself to reveal a plate of steak and veggies. When the wall stopped moving I hesitantly walked towards the food, noticing upon further examination a small note in front of the plate: "Welcome" in pretty cursive. I looked around the indentation of the receded wall, nervously putting my head in the hole to see where the food could've came from. Like the room itself, there was no evidence of any entrance or exit.

There was no sense of time, I could've been staring at the steak for minutes or hours. The room itself was so quiet my ears started to ring. For being in such a desolate room, my senses were overstimulated. My head still hurt from an unknown cause but wasn't relieved by the growing cavern in my stomach. With each passing moment I was tempted to test my fate and bite the suspicious food.

At some point my hunger decided for me and walked towards the strange plate. Grabbing a fistful of the food I shoved it greedily into my mouth. I finished the plate like a madman, disregarding the possible consequences of the food's contents. I stepped away from the wall until I sat in the lonely chair in the middle of the room. I watched in daze as the hole in the wall protruded back into it's original form. Only for it to return but with a different offer.

Two small red buttons presented themselves to me, accompanied by that polite cursive found with the food. "Book" and "Cards", each word under a different button. Hastily I pressed the book button and impatiently waited for something to occur. Like the food nothing happened until I moved away from the wall. Slowly but surely the wall closed and opened again, gifting a leather bound book that read: "The Giver, by Lois Lowry." I slumped into the harsh metal of the chair and widely leafing through the pages of the text. A scrap of paper fell to the ground. I almost threw myself to the ground to catch the small parchment. I scanned the words over and over again, as if they would magically make sense if I read it enough.

"Your Head."

I didn't know what it meant at all. When I started to gain a migraine from the stress of the situation my brain, I thought back to when I first woke up. My hand slowly drifted to the back of my head, probing where it hurt the most. I felt a wet indentation, shooting sharp prickles of agony when I irritated it. But behind my exposed skin I felt something solid and small. Screaming, I endured my suffering and pulled out the strange object. Panting from the pain I looked at my bloodied hands to see a metal medical tag. The ones you see attached to a chain. I wiped the blood off of it to reveal small letters made of indentations.

"Subject 007."

The sun hits my eyes and gently shakes me out of sleep. I groan and welcome the warm sunshine, slowly slipping out of bed. I glance at the clock and mind the time. As always, I wake up before I need to open shop.

After freshening up and dressing I walk downstairs to the front door, switching the closed sign. As I wait for customers to flood in, I quickly take inventory of shelves that house various glass perfumes. I take note of the ones mostly gone and make a mental note to order more.

I’m broken from my thoughts as I hear the door open, followed by a brightful jingle. I turn and smile when I see it’s one of my employees. She smiles back and walks to the counter.

“Slow day?” She looks at me politely as she takes off her jacket. I turn back to the shelves and scan my eyes of their numbers.

“Hmm I wouldn’t say so… The day has just begun.”

The door jingles again but instead of a customer I see a man in a brown suit, moving a rack of boxes.

“New shipment for you Justine.”

I walk towards the delivery man and smile at him politely as I sign the clipboard he hands me.

“As always thank you.”

He nods in appreciation. “Have a nice day.”

He leaves as I see Racheal picking up a box and bringing it to the counter. I help her and open a box. Inside are several carefully packaged boxes of glass perfume bottles. I reach for one, opening the case carefully to reveal a beautiful and delicate piece of white foggy glass. I run my fingers over the surface, feeling the bumps and curves that morph into vines.

Racheal watches over my shoulder. “Wow these must expensive… what’s their profile?” She tilts her head, glancing down at my hands that hold the perfume.

“Don’t know, let’s find out.”

I open the bottle and begin to spray the essence into the air. In the sun light I se the substance trickle down. Racheal puts her head into the light mist and she lights up.

“Oh wow… it’s smells sophisticated. I think it has notes of jasmine and powder.”

I feel a tinge of confusion dwell in me. I didn’t smell anything, even despite the fact that I sprayed the perfume in front of me. I was about to say something to Racheal before a customer came in.

I spent the entire day trying to smell the shop but nothing came to me. Even at lunch my food tasted dull and flavorless. I didn’t worry about it at first but a sense of dread washed over me. What if I couldn’t smell at all? How could I own a perfume shop if I can’t even smell what I’m selling?

I pushed my thoughts away and tried to sleep. Thinking that if I rested my sense would come back to me. Only when I woke up it was still the same. I started really panic. A train of thoughts and questions rammed into my brain as I began to think about what caused or what may solve my problem. Later in the afternoon I scheduled a doctors appointment

About two weeks later I parked my car in the driveway of my local clinic. After a dreadful wait in the main room I was brought in a small and senile room. If I could smell I knew I’d be suffocating in a medicinal stench.

“What seems to be the problem?” My doctor glanced over to me.

I take a loud sigh. My voice is dull and tired.

“I can’t smell.” My doctor looks at me with a look of pity.

Another few hours of waiting. Then tests, then more waiting. There’s nothing more I hate than the health system.

After a long day I’m sent him to wait patiently for the benevolent words of my doctor to tell me what’s wrong. What’s a load of bullshit. I want to know now, I need to know.

I dread going home, I contemplate closing my eyes all the way upstairs to my room. At least then I wouldn’t have to be reminded of everything I held dear. A treasure now out of my reach.

In the time between waiting for my results I start being accustomed to no smell. I try to hide the fact that I can’t smell, though I think people are starting to catch on.

Every time I need to smell something I pretend to sniff before giving it to Racheal and asking for her opinion. I’m glad I trained her well.

The oddest thing I found was that even despite not having a sense of smell, I could work the same. Whenever a customer came buy and I ask what they were looking for, I knew exactly what they needed. It helped that I always profiled each perfume with their notes.

The moment I handed the perfume to them, their faces lit up in small surprise. ‘That’s just what I needed!’

I was equally surprised as them.

I never thought I’d be ok with not smelling. It’s my job after all. But seeing the pleasant faces of people in my shop reminded me what I loved, why I opened up a shop in the first place. It seemed it didn’t matter whether or not I could smell, I did my job damn well.

I only wondered if I’d keep my sentiments when my results come back. Knowing how the system works, I didn’t hold my breath.

A/N: not proof read :,)