The hermit crab's tank smelled like Fell's Point; so after I got it home I inspected the whole thing very closely. Heating pad, humidity sponges, plush bedding, food, water... whatever killed this crustacean it wasn't neglect. Had it suffered from ennui? Choked, perhaps, on a peach? It's been cold.. maybe Hermit had been embedded in ice.
Eventually I picked up the painted shell (fancy! we didn't paint our hermit crabs back in Rehoboth) and raised it to my nostrils, sniffing delicately.
At which point ten tiny legs reached out to stroke my nose and I had a heart attack and died.
I didn't realize that I even knew that word.