James hated nail polish. The smell was like an invisible fist that divided in two, reached in through his nostrils, and simultaneously punched him in both hemispheres of the brain. Given the choice, he would rather sniff textas or wasabi, he often thought, at least wasabi had tang, but not nail polish. Never nail polish.
It had been a difficult year, what with the divorce, losing half the house, half the kids, not to mention half the company (therefore). Simon had half a mind left to take his ex-wife back to court, but then he knew he might just lose everything. Anyway, not all was lost. Rather conveniently, Simon’s mother
Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat