In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Transporter.”
Rotten milk! That’s right! I recall that smell upon my security blanket. I hugged it, slept with it, and brought it with me wherever I went. I loved that tattered piece of material, which we stored in a regular box and upon a closet shelf. It’s dark pink with white threads, almost like a Damask but thicker piling.
The rotten milk smell reminded me also of my baby bottle. I used those thick, dark-brown rubber nipples at that time. Boy, I used that bottle way past my weaning, until our babysitter, Auntie Emma, told us a lie: that there are worms inside the milk. She showed us the bottle with the milk and insisted that worms were inside. But err didn’t see any. Damn liars!
Leave a Reply