I once dated a man who never smelled. No sour morning breath, no corn-chip feet, no pungent sweat. My nose—less trusting than my heart—sniffed for signs of humanity. But even his gas didn’t provide a whiff. Farts of a hollow man, all sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Laurie P. Mendoza is an elementary school counselor and children’s author who has been published in Spider Magazine. She also dabbles in playwriting, personal essays, and holding a grudge. This is her second story for Fifty-Word Stories.