THIEF OF BREAN (VOL-1)|✓

INKLINGS- XXIV

"Officer? Officer?" With the fussiness of his head diminishing, Carl could recognise the familiar, mortifying voice. The burning sensation still lingered his eyes. Carl rubbed them as he straightened up on the couch. It was bright daylight.

Osanne broke her sceptic stare when he looked at her. "It's high sun," she said, moving away and picked up the mop from the floor.

Carl pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can see that," he growled in frustration. "Why are you here?"

"I am just doing my job," she replied, swiping the mop over the floor.

The couch was laid on the upper most layer of the floor. Carl looked down layers and to the desk standing in the middle of the room. The last thing he remembered from last night was flopping into the coach and hopelessly fanning his sore eyes until the sleep had taken the burning away from his senses.

"You don't look good," the woman poked him with her blunt words again.

Dammit! He must have forgotten to latch the door last night. The floor was clean of the charcoal and bread he remembered from the previous night.

"What was it you were after last night?" he asked her.

"A macaque."

Carl frowned. "A macaque? You were running after a macaque?"

She nodded and before focussing back on mopping. "Macaques love apples. Thanks to Gods, it was alone and astray from the troop or they were sure to rampage the orchard."

Carl raised a finger in dissent. "I think you said there was someone in the corridor-you clearly meant a person."

"I meant the macaque," she said in a stern voice. "So I was right to think that you were drunk."

Carl blanched. "I wasn't drunk," trying to rise up to his feet that felt numb and tingly.

"You were roaring drunk, Officer. I know your little secret-you get drunk and draw beautiful women."

Carl gave up fighting his legs and chose to stay put in the couch until the woman left. Even as he sat there, he felt as though he was floating in a stream, the current of water was just carrying him around. The last thing he wanted to do was get into an argument. So, leaving Osanne to her mopping, he leaned flopped against the couch and went back to sleep.