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Weekly Contest #322
A starving man smells meat from a mile away, just like a hyena does when its belly is grumbling or its mind is empty, and haven’t all our bellies and minds been that way when we were younger? Mine had been. So, from a certain age, my eyes had been open, my ears straining, and my nose smelling for something other than the tobacco and bourbon my mother told me would be my future, just as it was hers. The citrus I smelled first was tempting in its freshness, its juvenile joy, but it turned out to be envious and empty, just like the sandalwood I...
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