Now, don't look if you're squeamish, but
There's a body in the kitchen. It's skin is translucent, except the patches covered in the oozing, green rash. Pus has crusted on what remains of it's clothes. One half of the forehead and the jaw have caved in, green and oozing and unable to hold up to whatever pressure was put on them when the body fell.
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*He steps into the kitchen, and his eyes widen, as his arms fall slack at his sides. He attempts to take in what he sees.*
*This isn't the first time today that he's been in this kitchen, so why is there now a decomposing body on the floor?*
*He walks up to it, to give it a closer look... bending over it and peering down, to take in every detail.*
*It takes a moment for the obvious to hit him: a body in this state of decomposition should have a noxious stench. But the only odors in the kitchen are just what they should be: coffee, vanilla... all the comforting smells of home.*
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Yes, Mihael, I am... very much afraid that it is. But --
-- can you smell it?
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It's everywhere, and it looks like he's been dead for some time, so... why can't we smell it?
I suppose we should be happy that we can't smell it. I would only like to know how it got here.
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...
Mihael, did you...
You heard that, didn't you?
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Did its lips move? Did you -- did you see?
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(The comment has been removed)
I know. I heard.
Mihael, you might -- prefer to go talk to some of the others.
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No one knows how to help you.
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