It was nearing four. She looked back at the large canister her husband held, it was almost a foot tall and just as wide around.“Do you think... you ...hould start now? It's just so much…” she trailed off.Stan nodded and took a deep breath. He felt his tight shirt pop an unseen seam somewhere on his back from the exertion. He set the canister on the table and began to unscrew the top. The perfume that almost immediately wafted from the opened container was an acrid, almost sour smell that made his. Leaning against a boulder, he shucked his boots and stripped off all of his clothes. Even the heat of the afternoon couldn't penetrate his directed thoughts. Gingerly, he walked across the bank of stones with the soap in his hand. He stepped into the icy stream with barely a hiss escaping his lips. He cast about for the deepest slough he could find, carefully choosing his steps until he drew near the deep pool within the stream. He placed the soap on the dry top of an upended stone, and marched. More

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