From the Safety of the Nest

Posted: September 15, 2012 in Uncategorized

Walking up the steps to his small house, a butcher turns the key in his lock. His clothes are bloody and slimy, he smells of uncooked meat; the juices of which have soaked into his very skin. He sweats them out when work is particularly taxing. The first thing he does is puts his keys and wallet on the table. Then he takes his clothes, tosses them directly into the washing machine without turning it on. The basin is filled with similarly tainted clothes, and the smell between loads is difficult to manage for anyone other than him. He closes the lid, steps over the bathtub’s lip, and takes a long hot shower. He soaps his skin no less than four times, taking all the aroma of dead animal out of him for at least a few hours, masking it with scents designed to tantalize and rejuvenate if the bottles are to be believed. Finally he sits on his bed, wearing only an undershirt and a pair of briefs. He picks up his tiny viola, scratches the stubble under his neck before placing the instrument in his thick fingers and under his tired jaw, and with a few sharp strikes of the bow to begin he forgets about death until he can no longer keep his eyes open.

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