Reluctant

After I pull back that first panel, I am surprised by the stale funk that meets my nose. The smell isn't repulsive, at least not anymore, but it suggests something foul from a while ago. Peeling back a few more ribs from the plaster-and-lath wall matter brings a flood of the smell out. Dust kicks up in puffs from the disintigrating material too, but that's what the mask is for. Goddamn this stinks.

This kind of work is no struggle. Demolition for modern buildings is much worse, the fiberglass insulation on skin can make a person lose their mind. Just every now and then you come across something you weren't counting on inside a wall...

Only the stinky air isn't coming from inside the wall, not like it had seemed. It's usually an empty hard liquor bottle, dropped between the framing studs as the construction team worked upwards. Newspapers a few times, delicate as tissue, still announcing Baltimore's biggest news around the 50's construction boom. This project had been rife with such relics; it seemed like every day there had been some new quirk of out of time to tell the missus' back home. Still, there is something funky this time. This aroma. It smells a little sweet and earthy--maybe like yard clippings after they sat a couple days in the rain, or even compost? And where is it coming from? Standing and sniffing isn't shedding any light on the question, but it's not easy to quit an intriguing smell. With a prybar and hammer, it's a moment's work to pull up the floorboards; better to check for the extent of rot when a project house smells wet like this. But looking now, there's no moisture down there at all! Ah, wait, no, it's really is coming from inside the wall. More wall comes away, crumbling and weak to the touch.

These old houses; so much flimsy wall holding so many forgotten pockets of space. With each little strip of wood removed, a little more of the diluted sunlight pierces the rising cloud of dust and falls into the dark corner. It's hard to see through saftey goggles. Besides, working inside on a day like this, the mixture of sweat and dust invariably forms an opaque smear over the lenses. After a pause, the dust settles some, and peering into the widening crack the dimensions of the cavity beyond clarify. Jeeze, why wasn't this on the floor plan? The space must be at least fifty square feet.

More wall comes away, more light creeps in, pupils recalibrate.

It's starting to look like theres a large wad of something back there, a lumpy shape maybe a couple feet long? There's a flashlight in the toolbox somewhere, that would probably help.

It's wrapped. It's a lumpy shape wrapped in plastic, and it stinks.