The stench drifted from the kitchen sink like a ghost that refused to leave. Every evening, as Mia filled a pot for pasta, a gurgling sound would rise from the drain, followed by a sulfurous, rotten-egg odor that made her wrinkle her nose.
No rotten eggs. No sulfur. Just the faint, clean scent of nothing.
“It’s getting worse,” her husband, Tom, said, peering under the sink. “I can try the snake again, or we can call a plumber.”
“Trust me,” she said.