cinnamon.

Warmth disguised as spice. 
Sweet, soft, and everywhere in December.
Sprinkled on lattes, baked into memory, drifting through kitchens like an old song.
It’s the scent of holidays, of comfort, of slow mornings where time feels kind.
Wear it when nostalgia tastes best, when you crave sweetness with an edge, when a little spice makes everything feel alive again.
cinnamon. 
Sweet heat, eternal.