Here’s a brief excerpt from the story:
The smells are the worst. Each morning, it’s not enough that I wake on the very edge of the bed, bleary-eyed from another restless night caused by his ungodly snoring, frustrated and cold as I try to pull just one sheet back from his greedy hands; no, I must also face the awful stench emanating from his crotch. It’s subtle but always there, this sour smell that reminds me of curdled milk, lingering no matter how often he showers. Anytime I catch a whiff of that foul odor, I nearly gag, vowing then and there never to have sex again, not with him or anyone else. That odor makes the idea of even touching another human being repulsive.
He’s my husband, but I didn’t sign up for this.
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