The Smell of Zonrox

Creative Nonfiction by Charmaine Carrillo |

Wiping the sink and stove, I poured zonrox over the stains that would not seem to go away. They could be stubborn. The stain, I meant. But I admitted that I left them for quite some time. That was the thing with stains – the longer left unattended, the harder to get rid of them. And now, I had spent a few good minutes scrubbing them with a labakara. This labakara, a square cut face towel, used to be baby pink. But its color was bleached to dirty white, only faint sign of the pink was left. The same zonrox that bleached the labakara could also make the fingers slippery. Danlog. Like how the hands feel when lathered with soap then washed by rainwater. Continue reading The Smell of Zonrox