He applied the menthol rub first—not just under his nose, but in a thick, reckless smear across his entire upper lip, his cheekbones, and accidentally, a little on his eyebrow. His eyes watered. He felt like a bear that had just stuck its face into a glacier. The left nostril gave a half-hearted flutter, then closed again.
He lifted the bowl, inhaled the steam, and felt a faint, tantalizing twinge in his right nostril. Then nothing. open blocked nose
Then, like the first crack of dawn, a tiny stream of air whistled through his left nostril. He inhaled again. More air. His right nostril, the stubborn one, remained a brick wall. But the left—the left was awake . He applied the menthol rub first—not just under
Leo groaned—a pathetic, nasal-less groan that came out as a strangled honk. The left nostril gave a half-hearted flutter, then
He shuffled to the bathroom, rummaged through the medicine cabinet like a surgeon searching for a scalpel, and emerged with an arsenal: a neti pot, a bottle of extra-strength menthol rub, a roll of medical tape, and a tube of something called “Nasal Freedom” that he’d bought at 2 AM from a late-night infomercial three years ago. Its expiration date was last March.
He shuffled back to bed, lay on his side, and closed his eyes. The water-stain face on the ceiling seemed less disapproving now. Almost proud.