The Scent of Orange Peel on the Daily Log Sheets

Dear Delyara, I brought an orange with me tonight, hoping the citrus scent would help me stay awake through the 3:00 AM slump. As I tore into the skin, the sharp, bright oil sprayed across my fingers and left a tiny, translucent smudge right on the corner of the official incident log. For a second, the guardroom smelled like a completely different life—like a kitchen table filled with sunlight, laughter, and family. It’s amazing how a smell can make your heart physically ache. I sat there with the fruit half-peeled in my lap, looking at the grey concrete blocks of the wall, feeling the immense distance between where my body is trapped tonight and where my soul actually belongs.