The Way Things Are by Bailee Cofer

The smell of dog and discount laundry detergent

You don’t know how the other neighbors never seemed to smell it. The scent stuck to everything that came out of the house. The house that sat on the corner of the block in the middle of an affluent suburb in one of the safest cities in America. It lingered in Austin’s clothes and his hair, from the day you met to the day he disappeared. The smell of a mother’s house is hard to scrub off. Continue reading “The Way Things Are by Bailee Cofer”