pungent sights

On a perfectly brisk yet sunny October Saturday, Chloe was inside selling overpriced but good croissants and coffee at Ceci-Cela on Spring. She thought it might be a fun thing, like a hobby, working in what would be the closest thing to a real Parisian cafe. Plus, it was just a few blocks north of her apartment. She imagined herself blithely tying on a cute apron and joyfully serving smiling, happy customers delicious pastries, chatting with the locals in between. Instead, it was all drudgery and belittlement. The customers, both tourists and natives alike, were downright rude, and the smell of croissants was now sickening. She was about to tell the manager she would like to quit when in walked a familiar face.

One look at his trendy new boots and she knew he wasn't the same. It had been five years, of course, and one was certainly allowed to change. But not for the worse. Not while still in your twenties. He reeked of expensive cologne, and he produced an iPhone4 from his back pocket.
"Really? An iPhone?"
"Yeah, aren't they great?"
"I wouldn't know. I though you hated iPhones." Chloe cast a jaded glance out the window over her right shoulder, then turned to face him again.
"I did, in theory. But now I don't live in the theoretical world. I live in the practical one."
"I can see that."

She motioned to the rear of the cafe, if you could call it a cafe. It was more like a claustrophobic hallway. Not more than one person could stand between the wall and the glass case. She walked out from behind the counter and followed him to a pair of rickety chairs set around a table still strewn with the remnants of someone's breakfast.

There they chatted about the usual things one chats about with someone from the past. Jobs ["Are you still at...?"], haircuts ["Your hair seems longer..."], apartments ["You've moved five times?!"], and relationship status ["So, how's Tara? Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."]. By that time, he had finished his coffee and croissant, and Chloe saw him on his way, ["It was great to see you. I'll see you around."], never to be seen again, in all his pungent, high-tech glory.

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/pungent