When Barnabas woke up he felt like shit. It wasn’t really that unusual, but that didn’t make it suck any less. He sighed and made himself get out of bed. He was hungry, but he ignored it.

Barnabas took the black incense with the green paper wrapping out of its box and held it up to his nose. It smelled like evergreen trees and earth. He stuck it in the holder and snapped his fingers to light it. He could almost pretend he was somewhere else. But he was still cold. And underneath the smell of herbs and incense was, ever-present, the stench of rot, and grime, and despair.