When you walk into the back apartment of the tan duplex on the west side of Pocatello, Idaho, the first thing that hits you is the smell: an acrid mixture of stale cigarettes, pet odors and filthy carpet infused with God-knows-what. Two strips of flypaper hang from the ceiling, dotted with prey. In the kitchen is an ancient gas-fired heater that, despite frigid Idaho winters, hasn't worked in over a year. The tenants, Will and Rose, seem unbothered by their home's shabby condition. Will, 22, stands in the living room, playing songs on a huge stereo, while Rose, 21, tends to their 1-year-old son.
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