Word: acrid
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...Construction at the bomb site is already underway; hammering and the whine of electric saws disturb contemplative mourners and the curious who venture there. What was once the Sari Club is now a vacant lot, the crater filled with offerings, notes, candles and bouquets. Burning incense barely conceals the acrid smell of burnt metal, but at least the odor of charred flesh has dissipated. A few doors down, souvenir stalls offer 50% off all merchandise, but no one is buying. Says shopkeeper Sita: "Nobody comes, and if they do, they aren't in the mood after seeing all this tragedy...
...them wind up in Sidney's office, with Elwell uttering the oldest line in his little black book: "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Rita throws a righteous fit but finally accedes. After Sidney leaves them alone with two drinks and an unmade bed, Rita, in a deliciously acrid twist, sullenly acknowledges that they had met before. "Palm Springs. Two years ago. Don't tell Sidney...
...dull the Harvard campus has been recently, I was interrupted by the piercing sound of my fire alarm. Cursing the now-routine recent barrage of fire drills, I grabbed my coat and rushed downstairs into the courtyard. Only this time, to my delight, the distinct smell of acrid smoke greeted my nostrils upon exiting the building...
...wondered about this as I took my bike out Sunday morning to do a familiar loop around my neighborhood (I live a half mile away from World Trade Center). Squeezing between police cars and roadblocks, I soon turned around, mostly because the smell––an acrid, chemical smell-had settled permanently in the air. Making a slow turn onto my street, I looked up, and for the first time in the fifteen years that I have been looking up, the view had irrevocably, permanently changed. My eye struggled to fill in the blank behind the yellow...
...terms the American driving public can understand, we?re four-tenths of a mile away from the great crematorium. Tribeca is the nice place near the awful place: Beverly Hills down the block from Bosnia. But proximity to an instant cemetery gives us a vicarious creepiness, what with the acrid stench of compressed steel and flesh, and the constant police presence; a few weeks ago a three-foot concrete barricade was erected around the Western Union Building across the street, presumably because of the telcom companies and government agencies housed there. So we feel as if we are close enough...