It was that awful, terrible smell; like that of rotten eggs that permeated the air in and around the kitchen that night. I took whiffs here and there, walking back and forth with my back hunched. I guess if anyone had been in the house that night, they would’ve thought I looked like.. like I was crazy. But I wasn’t, I could smell something and so I searched for the origin. I came up with nothing. Yet as I stood staring into the cabinets inhaling deeply of the smell, thinking it over; I didn’t ever buy eggs, I’m allergic, you know. It suddenly hit me just as my gaze drifted to the linoleum floor.

This is where I found her I thought, my throat suddenly dry and stinging the way it does when you’re getting a cold, but you’re not quite sure yet so you ignore it. And I ignored it, but like all sore throats, it slowly crept into my thoughts. And the memories surfaced to the front of my mind with it. It had been a cool, but not cold day in February, and I had felt good for the first time in ages…