Trip Fontaine saw her with a concentration so focused he ceased to exist. The world at that moment contained only Lux. A fuzzy aura surrounded her, a shimmering as of atoms breaking apart, brought on, we later decided, from so much blood draining out of Trip’s head. She passed right by him without noticing, and in that instant he smelled not cigarettes as he expected, but watermelon gum.
Jeffrey Eugenides, The Virgin Suicides (via butterfliesandcartooneyes)