I smell it before I really think about why Mia is likely so upset. It’s thunder storming, Neil’s driving crazy, it’s late and she’s still up and outside. She has any number of reasons to be crying.
But that smell.
Yeah, that’s definitely poop. And it is pungent.
Even in the dark car, lit only by the lights of the dash and the occasional street or headlight, I can see the way Neil’s face pales as once, as white as the moon.
“You aren’t about to pass out, are you? Gods, at least, pull over.”
He doesn’t answer me. He must be holding his breath.
For sure, we are all about to die.
“It’s just poop smell.” Sure, it sucks bad, but babies poop.
We’re on the highway, so he can’t exactly pull over with any kind of ease. He makes no motion to, anyway.
“If you pull over, I can change her diape
