I was his upholstery. Something designed to soak up the mess, so the floor stayed clean.
“He smelled of expensive laundry conditioner and a frantic, minty over-correction – a scent designed to mask the sour, yeasty truth of him. It was a piece of expert staging, right down to the well-scripted affection he performed for the room. But in the quiet, the mask soon slipped.”
Full manuscript available for representation/publication enquiries.