The smell of stress is not what you’d think. It’s not dark, it’s not putrid. It’s not bodily or sweaty. No the smell of stress is paper white and graphite grey. It’s asparagus green forms and squealing plastic swivel-chairs. The smell of stress is a sheet of solid ice that you crash onto. It’s the dry taste in your mouth and the vertigo as you stand up too quickly. The smell is a long line of people awake far earlier than normal on a Saturday in an unfamiliar sterile hallway making small talk. The smell of stress is surprisingly bland, frightful in its timidity, but still deadly toxic.
Advertisement
