The Viewing
The agent shows me inside, and as I walk in, the smell hits me; a mixture of mildew and cats. I wrinkle my nose, unable to hide my disgust. The agent closes the door, shutting out every hope of fresh air. He turns and smiles apologetically at me. I can only manage a grimace, so focused am I on not seeing my breakfast in reverse, though it couldn’t possibly make this place any worse.
