my head, a phantom scent from

' s cry, sha

of death, but to the dingy floral wallpap

bel

s al

t

e oven, the sweet, cloying scent of gas, and a

urdered by Karen' s idioti

sband, stood by and let

Frank, backe

ade th

id and searin

y, her skin yello

e clear, photot

n had scoffed, her voice l

azing hot utility lamp in the unheated living

' d declared, scrolli

dition only

cribed Bio-Kult, a specific probioti

hausted,

ound he

ra-Kill," a borate-based

ntry, a testament to

or maybe the similar name, Bio-Kult, Bora-K

was just p

wappe

y d

cent life, e

d, told me, "Mom didn't mean it

ed, said, "You should h

s an accident, a

rage so pure it bur

ir screams,

now,

floral

chill i

iercing cry

b