It smells like summer tonight.
It smells like movie nights and ice cream and heat receding from the blaring day.
The kind of summer night where, on a whim at 3 am, one might walk down the middle of roads illuminated by orange street signs to get a chocolate milk at 7 Eleven. Where one might grab a couple friends, find a field, and count shooting stars all night. Because there's nothing better or worse to do in the world.
Not too many more of these.
