5) Cinnamon
(Words: 84)
The smell was strong. The smell of blood... of death.
Narcissa stared at herself in the mirror, eyes red from crying and cheeks tear-stained.
Her third attempt at a pregnancy was now flushed down the toilet. As dead as she felt.
Anger took hold of her and Narcissa took the vase of potpuri and smashed onto the bathroom floor. Glass shards flew everything and the over whelming smell of cinnamon filled her notrils.
A wave of sickness washed over her and she threw up.