“Then there’s the smell.”
Mumps lowered the open book to his lap and peered over his reading glasses. The little bald man sitting in the chair across from him looked startled for a moment. Mumps enjoyed coming to the bookstore to read on Sundays and wasn’t very pleased to find someone addressing him.
“Pardon me?” Asked Mumps.
The little man swallowed and looked nervously from side to side.
“They smell. They smell badly.” He continued, speaking in a precise but apologetic manner.
Mumps closed his book and considered the man for a moment.
“Who smells badly?” He asked.
The little man waited until a couple walked past them. He looked around to make sure that no one else was within earshot and whispered “Dead people.”
“Yes, so I have heard.” Offered Mumps, reaching for his coffee.
“I mean…It’s not so bad when they’re fresh and the weather is cold.”
“I would imagine so.”
“But on hot days it’s unbearable.”
Mumps took a sip of the coffee and set it back down.
“Excuse me Mr…” Mumps allowed time for the little man to fill in his name.
“Mr. Skitter.”
“Yes, Mr. Skitter. I don’t mean to come across as rude or unfriendly, but why exactly are you telling me this?”
Mr. Skitter swallowed and leaned forward. He once again looked around to make sure no one was nearby. “I know who you are.”
“Have we met?”
“No Mr. Mumps, we have not. But I am familiar with your…work.” He paused before saying the word ‘work’ to add more meaning to it.
“My work?” Asked Mr. Mumps, seemingly confused.
“Your…work.” Stated Mr. Skitter. Again there was the pause before the word.
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