How a Random Whiplash of Lemon Cleaner Can Turn Me Back Into a Terrified Child

Dear Delyara, It was just a standard floor cleaner they used in the office corridor today—something sharp, chemical, and heavily scented with fake lemon. But the moment it hit my nostrils, my breath caught in my throat and my heart started hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I was instantly ten years old again, crouching at the top of the stairs, listening to the muffled, terrifying roar of my parents destroying our family in the kitchen. I am a grown man with an office and a staff, but a chemical scent can strip away twenty years of healing in three seconds flat. I hate how loud and violent the past can be, and I hate how small it still makes me feel.