Montana

"The air stank like rotting flowers— thick and stifling. It sent tingles racing up Mia's spine, though the summer day was hot and humid and Mia could already feel the beads of perspiration collecting on her forehead. It was as if when Death had come for her mother, it never left. As if it was still trapped in this attic, among all the other cluttered old things that lived up there— frozen in time. As if it slumbered here— stirring silently in the shadowed corners, simmering in the saccharine scent of heady old lady perfume, slipping deeper into the maze of old memories that lingered in the room like ghosts."