A Scent of Sarsaparilla has long been one of my favorite short stories of the hundreds written by the legendary Ray Bradbury. It has the feel of one of those Twilight Zone episodes like The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine, or Static. But there is something softer here, more wistful, and in the end, more poignant.

For William Finch and his wife Cora, the November chill isn’t just outside, it’s internal as well. Age and time has moved them far away from those endless summers of picnics and bands, and the joy of life. But what is an attic, after all, if not a time machine, a place where all our memories and youth is stored? Cora can’t understand why William is so happy and energized lately. Sadly, perhaps she never will understand, because William has just entered the Ray Bradbury Zone.

Just a very short, marvelous story you’ll never forget once you read it. Don’t be surprised if when you turn the final page, you get a whiff of some scent from long-forgotten youth. Perhaps it will even be the scent of sarsaparilla… ( )