In the house of flies
#16
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“Laurel,” she repeated, as if to assure him that she remembered his name when she'd only choose to probably forget it later. Aside from meeting him a couple of times, she hadn't been able to form much of an opinion of him. A memory would remain, but that was about it. Though at his confession of not being able to smell, Corona couldn't help but throw him a look of sympathy. Losing something that was quite vital like that was never good, but as to why it would happen was a little lost on her. She had never thought about the things that could make that happen, fire or not.



“I'm sorry to hear that. I imagine it doesn't make things easy for you.” The fire was so long ago that Corona figured if it was going to be temporary, it would have gone away by now. “You still cook though, don't you? I remember you having an interest in that, I think.” Of course, she thought absently, if he couldn't smell, then his sense of taste was probably a little hindered too. They didn't have very good taste to begin with, no doubt having traded that sense out to amplify their keen sense of smell. Either way, she tried to spur some sort of conversation with him that wasn't dreary or ominous.

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