The smell of fear

Aged 8, I envy my schoolteacher, who reveals one day that she has no sense of smell. No sense of smell, I think! No greasy whiffs wafting from the school kitchen, no stench of dog poo, no back-alley stench of urine. A near-perfect world.
In the school playground, we’re also fascinated by Eric, 7, who, dixit his teacher, has no sense of fear. To us sensible kids he appears simply crazy, throwing himself under the swings, climbing walls and trees regardless of danger; incredibly, rarely getting hurt.
I soon learned to treasure smell as the life-saving, life-enhancing gift it is. And sometimes I wish I could have a little tiny bit of what Eric had.