Norman's Neighborhood

One

If smells were sounds, the sensory overload would be a cacophony:
Coffee, bacon, overripe bananas, drying laundry, a faint note of scorching toast, and an occasional far-away suggestion of something dead...

The olfactory mélange wafted through a partially open window, summoning Norman from the depths of sleep. His nostrils twitched as the conglomeration of odors penetrated his consciousness. He stretched languorously, his body unwilling at first to respond to the invitation to investigate.

Suddenly, Norman realized that - despite the lateness of the morning - the house was too quiet. A faint rumbling sound, accompanied by a barely perceptible vibration, indicated that the dryer was running in the laundry room downstairs. An occasional burbling hiss of escaping steam was a sign that the coffee maker was almost done brewing. Otherwise, there was no evidence of habitation.

Norman stood up and wandered over to the open transom window, high above his head. The scent of fresh laundry was stronger there, as the window was straight above the dryer vent. The other windows, on the adjacent wall to the right, were covered by vertical blinds as yet unopened for the day. He nudged one aside and peered out briefly. The view was of the side yard; nothing moving but a few towhees hopping around.

Uneasy, Norman left the room and headed toward the stairs. On the way, he checked each bedroom and the bathrooms - all empty. Fully awake now, he swiftly descended the stairs and entered the kitchen.

Someone had brewed coffee, and fried bacon. Norman didn't care for coffee, but his stomach grumbled at the appetizing aroma of bacon. The bacon was nowhere in evidence; only the characteristic smell lingered.
No one was there.

A light breeze stirred the sheer curtains covering the window behind the sink. The back door, leading from the kitchen, stood open. The screen was shut, but not firmly, as if whoever had gone out last didn't take the time - or perhaps didn't have hands free - to close it securely. Norman decided to go out and search for his family.

Five steps led down to the yard. Norman stood for a moment on the top step, surveying his surroundings. He was quiet, listening... Birds chirped, a dog barked, cars whooshed past. Then, from somewhere close by, came the murmur of voices accompanied by clinking sounds. There was also an appetizing aroma coming from the same direction. Bill and Marguerite, next door, must be having breakfast on their patio.

Norman liked to visit the neighbors. He decided to go over there now. There was no fence between the two backyards, just a thick hedge. He knew where there were some gaps wide enough to squeeze through, and he headed for one of them. It was tight - the bushes of the hedge had grown a little closer since the last time he had squeezed through - but he wriggled and pushed himself into the other yard.

Bill and Marguerite sat at a small, round table equipped with a large, green and white striped sun shade. Bill's back was to Norman, and Marguerite's attention was given to serving pancakes. After filling her husband's plate and then her own, she looked up and noticed their visitor walking up the path.

"Well, look who's coming to see us - Norman! Want some breakfast?" Accepting the invitation, Norman hurried over to the table. Bill greeted him also, and then asked, "You won't refuse sausage, will you?"
He set a nicely browned, aromatic link of sausage down by Norman's feet.