The stench of decay floods my nostrils, and with my arm pressed to my nose and mouth, I make a futile attempt to block the vile odor. I stride past the rot decomposing in the sun, having been left to the elements. It has rained for days.
Inside, I locate a lawn and leaf bag from beneath the kitchen sink, shoving aside cans and bottles of cleaners and polish. Their pungent odors offer my lungs a brief reprieve. With a snap of the wrist, I flap the bag open and steel myself for the task at hand.
Outside, my dreaded duty awaits. I do what I must. With the base of my palm, gaze askance, I deposit the disgusting remains into the bag. With the addition of each bloated fragment, the bag weighs heavier, its dead cargo stretching taut the brown plastic. Continue reading
Kiyara sprinted down the sidewalk, shouldering past old ladies lugging shopping bags, kids dodging cracks in the pavement, and business men preoccupied by their cell phones. Oblivious to all but her escape route, she ignored the commotion in the street, where a Hummer had rear-ended a compact sedan. 
