• Anastasia Piatakhina Giré

Stuck in a cold shower

Every time I opened the door to Jane, I instantly recognized her odour. This used to rattle me at the very beginning of our work together, but after a few months I barely noticed it and simply opened the window to air the room after her departure, almost automatically as part of a familiar routine. She smelled of a neglected child, of sad days spent in unwashed pajamas and binge-eaten lonely meals.

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