Chemical engineering graduate student and science fiction writer.
A Whiff of Something Terrible
It was nearly one in the afternoon when Tom Percival arrived home in a flurry of snow. He stomped an icy crust off his boots and stepped into the kitchen.
I begin this diary as a way to process my emotions and provide some context for any readers who might come across this after my death. I am writing this on stone paper. Anything digital is out because I don’t want this memoir to be deleted like my family was.