From the maker

Scent Notes: Grandma's face cream, white musk, lavender, plums and fresh blossoms

Cynthia knew she wasn't supposed to be in here. She was two years old, so it was more of a vague sense than a specific rule. She had crept in very quietly, perhaps too quietly, pushing the door open with her little hand. Grandma's bedroom was pretty, soft florals all around, brass fixtures and sheer curtains, lush carpet squishing under her tiny feet. It smelled good in here, and everything was right in its place. Of course, Cynthia was more aware of the vibe of the place than the specific details. Later she would become an interior designer, and this room would go on inspiring her for years, but for now, all she knew is that she liked it.

She toddled over to the vanity and peered over, her nose barely above the edge. She spotted a pretty tube of (well, we know it is face cream, Cynthia didn't really know what it was). She raised her tiny arm and snatched it. She turned it around in her little hands and started to work the cap. It was quite a struggle but the adversity made the act that much more satisfying. Finally it popped off and fell to the floor, and she squeezed. Rich fragrant face cream erupted from the top. The scent hit her nose immediately and she absolutely loved it. It smelled like safety and giggles and warm hugs. She inelegantly rubbed it on her arms and face and shirt and...