The Frog Lady, 6
Ron smelled a faint aroma. It was slight, yet powerful. He pressed his nose into the narrow space between two pickets. What was it? Not flowers. Something more earthy, murky.
He put one foot on the silvery pipe of the gas meter and vaulted over the 6 foot fence into the frog covered yard. Ron was aware of the touch of clothing on his skin, the sun on his back, the pressure of teeth against his tongue. He stepped lazily among the frog artifacts and followed the scent.
Ron peered through a screen door into a kitchen.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “murky.”