When I got into the house, I was confronted by clutter, lots of it. They had tacky, bulky furniture and trinkets all over the living room. I could tell they had tried to clean up the place, but the house was bursting at the seams. At first, I thought it was because the house was so small, but I learned that, funny enough, those with little money seem to love collecting useless stuff.
I had to share a room with Gershel, my sixteen year old cousin . . . and I had thought the living room was bad. When I entered Gershel’s room, I was struck by the smell—of dirty laundry and, especially, of dirty socks. Aunt Matilda must not have gotten to clean that part of the house. I didn’t know how good of an odour no smell was until then. Continue reading “The Man Within, Chapter 8 – a novella excerpt”