One night, Megan sat on the living room floor surrounded by paint color samples for the upstairs hallway. She paused mid-conversation, brow furrowing as she sniffed the air. “There it is again,” she said slowly. “Don’t you smell it? It’s stronger tonight.” Daniel set down his roller tray and inhaled. A few seconds later, his expression shifted.
“…Okay,” he admitted. “Yeah. It’s not in the vents. And it’s not coming from the basement.” Megan stood, turning in a slow circle like she was triangulating the scent. Her nose wrinkled, her eyes narrowing with focus. “It’s coming from over there,” she said, pointing toward the far-left corner behind the old radiator.