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Unformatted text preview: omething. It made her disgusted. She stood, head cocked to the side, thinking it over. There was an exit to the stairs. There were the doors ahead. There was an exit on the other side of the ward. There were people right inside at the desk. If only she had Michael here, she'd push open that exit door, see if someone was standing in the stairwell, someone who gave off this odor. But the smell was already weak. It was going away. And as she stood there, considering this, getting quietly furious that she didn't have the guts to just open that damned door, someone else opened it, and let it swing shut as he went down the corridor. A young doctor with a stethoscope over his shoulder. The landing had been empty. But that didn't mean somebody wasn't hiding above or below. Ei- ther the smell was going away, however, or Mona was simply getting used to it. She took a deep slow breath; it was so rich, so sensuous, so delicious. But what was it? She pushed through the double doors into the ward. The smell grew stronger. But there...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10