Hey!! What's the story?
The corners of Johan's mouth twisted upward as he stood before the rickety wooden shelves in the darkest corner of the musty basement. His parents weren't even aware of the shelves' existence let alone the jars, seventeen in all, that the shelves housed. They never ventured down there anymore. They were too old to navigate the steep staircase.
His fingers grazed the fronts of the jars. Within each, a set of lips from a woman who'd spurned his advances smiled back- each in its own sea of formaldehyde.
A weak knock flowed down the stairs.
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