Day Twenty Four

Standing beside it in the pouring rain was the first time it had ever had a smell.  In the heat and dry of what had been a hot summer, there was never anything  florid or putrid about how it smelt.  In fact, there was nothingness.  How could something so amazing be a complete void.  No chemical stench, or machinery oil.  No sweat, or tears, or breath.  How could something so animated not impact someones sense?  I didn't understand until it rained.  The rain tinked off of the metal hull, and suddenly I was aware of it.  That smell that tastes like tinfoil and is cold, but sweet and tickles the back corners of your mouth when you breath it in.  That smell of money, and swing sets, and and old fence.  The smell of metal always reminded me of when I was younger and would play, often in the rain, and that would be the only time you could smell that smell. It wasn't good or bad, it was just there.  The smell of the wet metal, slowly rusting in the damp made me think that I should spend more time outside in the rain.