FEEL

26. Harmonoia

Harmonoia ~ an itchy sense of dread when life feels just a hint too peaceful.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

It was evening when I woke. I was pulled out of my slumber reluctantly by an odour that basically kicked my nose with an iron strength.

My heavy lids ripped apart, and the first thing I saw was Gracie looking up at me from the floor, like she'd been waiting for me to get up. She sits up diligently, with the posture of a sergeant at war and big blue eyes patient and calm. I grin tiredly at her and rub my eyes.

“Hi there,” I say.

She stares me down with indifference. Or maybe that was her resting face.

I sit up on the bed and just before I stretch, I see the reason why Gracie had been waiting for me to get up. My lips fall open and I scream as loud as I can, jumping off the bed and rushing out of the room faster than my legs had ever moved. I'm just out of door when I bump into Mr Pierce and he grips me by the shoulders.

“What happened?”

I heave, “I...the...oh, my god!”

He says, “Take your time,” but the urgency in his eyes tell me otherwise.

I point into his room. “It's on the bed.”

That seems to be enough information for him because he immediately hurries past me and into his bedroom. I grip my racing heart over my chest, falling back against the wall and catching my breath.

Just short of doing that, I hear Mr Pierce groan, “Jesus Christ, Gracie!”

A moment later, the cat runs out of the room with her little paws tapping lightly on the polished wood. Mr Pierce's hasty steps follow. He reappears in front of me, incredulous. His eyes land on me, scan me up and down. And then, he laughs.

I'm stunned at first. Then, humiliated. But after that, my fists clench at my sides and my features tighten. “What's so funny about this?”

“I'm sorry,” he laughs. “I shouldn't. I just...you look so traumatized.”

“Well, wouldn't you be traumatized if you found out you were sleeping with a dead pigeon?!”

“It's not going to hurt you, dear. It's dead.”

“It's still scary!” I exclaim, exasperated.

Mr Pierce stifles the rest of his laughter and takes my hand. I recoil, crossing my arms over my chest. He sobers. “Don't do that. Come here.” I let him take me into his arms. I'll admit only to myself that I relished the embrace. For someone so strong, he gave the warmest hugs. Like a big bear, dangerous when tested, albeit all fluffy and soft. “I'm sorry my cat put a dead pigeon on the bed while you were sleeping.”

“And for laughing at me?”

“Yes, and that.” He pulls away. “Would you go wait in the living room while I clean it up?”

I nod my head, then leave in the direction of the living room. There's always a book on his coffee table, right now being no exception. Probably his current read. This time, there's two. I lift the first one up and it's the one I saw last time, book marked towards the end. The second one is marked just at the beginning. When I pick it up, a smile stretches across my features.

Along came a Spider, James Patterson. It's the one I read when I was here last time. He replaced the fork I had shoved into it to mark the page I was in with a book mark. I pick it up and continue where I left off. I hear him walk in and out a few times while he cleans Gracie's mess up. I'm barely finished with one page when he returns.