Odor of Distrust

There was a distinct smell in the air; he couldn't quite place it, but it disturbed him.  It put him off his mark like something was out of place, but try as he might, he couldn't figure out what it was.  Sighing, he tried to turn his attention back to the blank sheet of paper before him, but he couldn't get himself to focus.  After a few minutes of staring at the blank paper, he threw the pencil down in disgust, muttering a curse.  Biting back a yawn, he set his head down in his hands.  Maybe he was just tired; he'd been working a lot lately.  Pondering the thought, he decided it wasn't his tiredness; it had to be something else.  Maybe a break was what he needed.  Standing, he stretched as he glanced around the room.  It was quite a mess; books were everywhere, papers littered the floor, and his clothes lay strewn in an uneven circle around the laundry basket.  Maybe, he thought, it was the mess.  He liked to be organized and he hadn't been.  No, he thought after a minute, it wasn't the mess; he sometimes liked a mess.  Walking into the kitchen, he went to the fridge where a picture caught his gaze; his fiancee and then it hit him.  The odor was one of distrust.