Drain: Doctor Wellington

I nodded. I know the smells. The rotten-egg sulfur of a dry trap. The boggy stench of a blocked main. But as I followed her down the wooden steps to the basement, I caught a whiff of something else. Something old. Metallic. Like blood mixed with wet clay.

Holding it closed.

Then I saw it.

Some things are barriers . And the doctor doesn’t always know what he’s cutting open. drain doctor wellington