The first thing he noticed, even before the lights were on, was the herbal scent. Maybe it came from the flowers downstairs, but it smelled like her h...ir. The entryway led to the kitchen. There was an old, white enamel sink — worn and chipped down to the cast iron. Not a dish in sight. The dishtowel lay neatly folded on the drain board. Everything in its place. The tiny living room had a sheet covered couch and a threadbare overstuffed chair next to a floor lamp. Again, there was little. Knowing that with every passing second he was closer to death, the man rushed headlong to the house as fast as his numb body would take him. Upon reaching the door, the man pounded the doorbell with his stiff, broken fingers. He felt deep inside his soul, that unless he found a warm hearth to stay by, he would be frozen in place like a dead living statue. Inside, behind the shutters, he could make out someone moving towards the door, peeking inside the window. The woman behind it stared at him. More

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