By Alexa Hailey
The apartment upstairs had a lot of smells. None of them were exactly good, although the factory that designed them may have intended them to be. Somehow, though, they ended up too chemical, too sweet, spilling from Glade PlugIns, or from plastic stations, or from bottles of oil with sticks shoved inside.
The smell spilled into their heating system, down into our shared basement. From there, it crept up into our apartment, mixing with the smell of old diapers and that cup of sour milk that we never could find.[Read more…] about The Upstairs Mother