Burnt
Maureen Hirthler
January 26, 2024
13 Comments
You never forget the smell of charred human flesh. It permeates your skin, your hair, your nose and your mind. It never leaves. You may try to describe it, but there is no equivalent. Not barbecue, not melted plastic, not wood; the smell of the flesh of a once-living human being stands on its own. Even after thirty years, my mind holds the smell in its broken places.
They said it was a Molotov cocktail thrown into the house because of a drug deal gone bad. The man who was the target jumped out a window and left his girlfriend and children behind. The fire consumed everything.
