My colleague stinks. That’s it. End of the story. Nothing I can do about it. I feel the stink slowly spreading itself and forming a sticky film over all surfaces, the desks, chairs, my clothes, the inside of my nostrils. I pack up and migrate to level 7 hot desks where people have long conversations about shit I don’t understand and smell of nothing. My colleague continues to stink and conquer the space one unwashed day at a time.
This is my space. I write about my days, books, photos, people, anything I can't bottle up. It's a mix of fiction and real. The photos are mine. No copies or downloads please.