Listen to song:
6.30.26 AUthor’s note: I was just reviewing this post and realized, I linked a blank new post to the place for the song. So here is the post again for those who would like to hear “Jenifer’s Lament” and for subs who missed the post first time around.
Jenifer’s skin crawled. She jerked her head left then right, couldn’t tell where the buzzing came from.
The smell was evident. The sickening reek came from her left.
She figured the droning hum was blowflies descending.
She remembered, “Blowflies materialize within the first few minutes …”
“He’s dead, then,” her stomach twisted.
Numbly, she reviewed decomposition progression:
Death—>oxygen deprivation—>immune system shut-down—>exponential gut bacteria proliferation—>cell breakdown—>methane, ammonia, putrescine
and cadaverine chemical production.
Jenifer could cite chapter and verse from her forensics textbooks.
Never imagined, though, having to apply her proficiency to the dead body of her husband.
Author’s Note:
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I was not sure how to read this today.
Cold skin. A directionless drone.
Then the reek hit her from the left, heavy and unmistakable. Blowflies.
He’s dead, then. >
Her stomach revolted, but her brain went completely on autopilot, reciting the forensics syllabus like a grim catechism: Oxygen deprivation. Immune collapse. Exponential bacterial proliferation. Methane. Ammonia. Putrescine. Cadaverine.
She had the terminology down to a science. A brilliant student. But there is a massive, unbridgeable gulf between a printed page and the smell of your husband turning into chemistry.
Eek Nothing to laugh about here Ginny! I once had to do CPR on my partner when he stopped breathing. I think your character, if trained as a forensic doctor, probably would not only have noted the signs but have over ridden them and rushed to try to save him, unless, of course she was glad to see him go!