Silas woke, put his hand on his AK-47, and inhaled the smells around him. It was how he got his bearings in the morning. As a Catholic, Silas knew rituals were important.
Wallpaper glue, sweat, and newsprint: these scents meant he was at his Law Street apartment. He smelled crude oil and the fecal stink of the Mississippi. That just meant he was still in the Ninth Ward.
Matthew C. Funk with Silas' Good Run.