His hair reminded me of mould on bread- all delicately fuzzy and weird smelling, kinda like the smell of a root cellar, which co-incidentally was exactly where we were. Was it his hair or the root cellar that was triggering those olfactory twinges?....no matter. We have time . Lots of time. We have no where to go. It's only me and Gramps left now. I got him down here by playing the " let's open the door" game. It's how we get him outside for his walk. Wait! What's he doing? Why is he opening the door? Looks like my bad habit of mumbling what I'm thinking has messed this one up- Gramps just heard " lets open the door " and "walk"...... Gramps!!! Don't let them in!!!!
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