Black raspberry and honeysuckle encroach from the  property of your reclusive neighbor next door. Alarmed by the wild tangle of vine and thorn, you ring the bell and are invited in. The scene before you resembles a forgotten room at the Field Museum. The resident of this house dabbles in taxidermy, you are informed; hence, the aardvark next to a lamp stand. A family of swans hover just below the ceiling, their wings eternally frozen in motionless flight. You speculate about what goes on in the workshop below stairs, the  stretching of dead flesh over pre-formed wood, the disposing of decomposed organ and bone. You speculate about the smell. The taxidermist asks if you would be interested in a tour—yes! slips past the back of your tongue. Your unconscious response startles you. You find yourself wondering about the dexterity of his hands. You wonder how well his wife sleeps each night on the other side of his bed.

-Nettie Farris