Wiping sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket, Paul replied, "Apparitions that come to take a person away when they die. Usually they are the souls of dead loved ones.
Sometimes they're accompanied by beings identified as angels."
"Correct." Alva squinted at him in the dim light.
He tried for the fortieth time that night to ignore the horrible smell coming from a pile on the other side of the locked room, but it was nearly impossible. That sickly sweet, awful smell.
"If you're hot, why don't you just take your jacket off?"
"Because if we have to make a break for it, I don't want me grabbing my jacket to slow us down."
"Then tie it around your waist."
"Like a kid in junior high?" Despite the joke, Paul did as Alva suggested. It did make it feel better in the humid room. Paul sat down again and covered his nose. "God, that smell is the worst."
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