Kelly stared at her rat. It was almost still warm.
She picked up her scalpel and marshalled hesitation into decision.
The blade caught some tube.
She knew immediately that she wouldn’t be getting good marks.
The smell followed her onto the avenue, surviving the foetid autumn leaves. Her clothes fumed with it. It leached into her hair, bonded with her skin.
At the cafeteria, she chose curried egg and placed the hermetic plastic pack on her tray.
Her first taste was enough to tell her that, today, her decision-making capabilities completely sucked.