Hearing a sound in the early morning, I scan the room to find her sitting there staring at me. My migraine is gone, and the crows have stopped cawing, but that stench. It needs to go away, before I hurl onto the covers.

Whenever, I have caught a scent of her lately, it is so rancid that it smells ten thousand times worse than a dumpster full of rotten seafood. I should know, because one time I did a stint at a local lobster manufacturing facility in Maine for a few months, while ...