You sell Stockholm's best cinnamon buns. You carried me through the long dark winter (that goes for you too, red wine). These days I don't crave the cinnamon buns as much, but I crave the smell of them. That's why I stepped into your little store the other day and heard myself utter these weird person words: excuse me, can I just stand here and inhale for a little while?".
Your shop woman was so understanding. She said "by all means. I know how you feel. It's a struggle each morning when these buns are delivered".