It started with Delbert and Martha Robinson. At least their incident was the first made public.

Nose popped into their kitchen out of nowhere, glided to the vegetable soup on the stove, then to Delbert’s collar. Next day the Robinsons received an email: Soup needs more broth, Delbert less cologne.—Nose.

Over the next few weeks, more and more people began reporting Nose encounters and emails.

Flower garden scent has too many roses.

Basement is musty, needs dehumidifier.

That boy of yours is just plain gross.

Innocent as Nose seemed, most folks viewed it as an uninvited guest. But Nose darted like a hummingbird on steroids, dodging ball bats, frying pans, butterfly nets. And if ever cornered, it disappeared, apparently to wherever it came from.

Some messages from Nose were ominous. Delbert smells of sex with another woman. Martha printed out the email, and thrust it at her husband. He claimed Nose was off its face.

When an email warned Lucy Carter that she smelled of disease, but a doctor said she was fine, headlines screamed Nose Blows! Delbert said told you so to Martha. Then texted his girlfriend that they were back on. Lucky for Lucy, Nose was a nag, and she got a second opinion.

People incorporated Nose into their lives, hardly blinked when it bobbed through their homes.

Checking for emails and reading those shared on Let’s Be Nosy became part of the daily routine.

When Delbert read one that said The nostrils reveal a person’s character, he lowered his chin whenever his wife was around.

Martha cherished visits from Nose and talked to it as if it were an ear. One day it sent her an email saying she deserved better.

After about a year, visits from Nose began tapering off. One day Nose sent the same email to everyone:

Sound of waves, beauty
of stars, Nose can only dream
I will miss you all

Nose was never seen or heard from again.

The reaction was a bell curve. A few people, like Delbert, clicked the heels of their minds. Most folks had sweet and sour reactions. Some, like Martha, couldn’t get out of bed.

But no one. Absolutely no one. Ever looked at their nose the same again.

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David Henson and his wife have lived in Brussels and Hong Kong and now reside in Illinois. His work has been accepted by some journals, rejected by many, and is pending with a few. Some of his stories have yet to be written. Whether those are his best or worse is TBD. His website is http://writings217.wordpress.com. His X handle is @annalou8.