he lay in bed, waiting for the sleeping pills to take hold, slowly breathing. and with every breath, calmer than the one preceding, he took in his stench. the smell of a man who hardly dressed that day, isolated in his room, only leaving to retrieve food from the kitchen and return. a man weighed down. the smell of stagnation and half-hearted follies. it was the scent of giving up.
and he thought it was the most fitting scent he could possibly wear.

posted by adam @ 10:32 PM