The Corpse Sauce

Summary

Three in the morning, and I was shivering in a police station.

The officer across from me tapped his pen on the desk.

“You’re a college student. So tell me again why you believe a food truck’s secret sauce is being made with… fluid from a corpse?”

I stared at the cold steel of the handcuffs, catching the lingering scent of decay trapped under my fingernails.

It was, without a doubt, the smell of death. The smell a human body weeps after it’s gone.