My companion cringed slightly.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” he asked, trying his hardest not to clutch his nose.

I took in a deep breath, savoring the scent of the air. I first identified age; that dusty-and-musty combination.

Then the mahogony furniture and shelving took over. It was a fine smell, and one I wasn’t often treated to savoring: only the finest furniture makers used this quality of wood.

I waited for my favorite part to sink in… ah, there it was: the yellowing paper, hard covers, ink and glue of books. The house was full of them, old and new, best-sellers and others lost in oblivion. I picked up a large volume and quickly flipped through the pages, taking in its glory.

“I’m positive,” I replied after a long pause.

“Are you positive? It doesn’t… smell quite right.” My companion’s statement was truncated by a ferocious sneeze.

I smiled in satisfaction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”