For the fourth day in a row, the cries from upstairs carried down. They passed through the bedroom door, descended the stairs, expanded into the spacious ground floor, and entered the room which Marius still claimed, even to himself, as his office. In the other three days he had felt the need to intervene, but had not managed to do much. On the contrary, one could say. He had tempered the voices momentarily, but the grievances had continued to simmer deep inside, so he hadn't really resolved anything.

He got up, opened the door and crossed the living room, limping slightly. The shouts were louder, of course, but the words were still unintelligible. He goes into the kitchen, pours himself a whiskey over two ice cubes and goes out on the terrace. I should try another brand, he thought.As he sat down, he tripped over the motan, who let out a meow of warning rather than pain. As he left the house, it crept between his legs. Do all cats do this? The first impulse was to punch him in the ribs, and she even imagined him projected into the now empty planters, but she controlled herself at the last moment and let herself fall onto the bench."Are you hungry, Mouse?" he said. You sure are hungry, man! How else?In the meantime it had rained well and there was a disagreeable cloud of mud in the air. Unhealthy, no doubt. He placed the glass on the table, next to the round stand, on which he read, for the hundredth time, "My favorite drink is my next one", and lit a cigarette. His knee hurt and he was cold, but for a while the discreet afflictions of old age, as his sister-in-law called them, did not bother him so much. He had somehow gotten used to it. From there, on the terrace, only the lower voice, strangled by nerves, of a teenager who considers himself an adult could be heard.The cat was rubbing against his legs and meowing. He was young Mouse, maybe three or four years old, no more. It had happened the other spring, at the beginning of the pandemic, when you were asked for a certificate to leave the house. How not to get it? He had found his bed on the terrace, in the wood crate under the grill. He hadn't been bothered by the cobwebs. Nor the smell of paint. He did not enter the house, ate only as much as he needed and defecated in the fields or at the neighbors. Instead, roaming at will, sometimes until morning.Marius remembered that he hadn't even called that day to schedule the gas inspection. He hadn't even called the dentist. He had not ordered the hood. He kept putting it off for almost a month. Two or three years ago, appointments and orders would not have been a problem for him. Thursday at half past four is fine, I'll leave work earlier! No, no way! You can't do it earlier than that! What a big deal?Suddenly, the woman's voice rises above the other. He was trying to control himself, obviously, you could feel it, but Marius knew too well that sharp vibration, acquired late, after the birth of Vladimir. Or so he thought at the time."Yes, Mouse, I know you're hungry!" he answered the motan who was poking him in the calf with his muzzle.The hysterical barking of the neighbor's dog, a bichon only slightly larger than a rat, makes its way through the hedge. It's seven, who's going to say! think. If only it hadn't gotten dark so soon... I would have been working around the garden.A screeching sound was heard from upstairs. A punch on the desk or maybe a manual knocked to the floor. He restrains his urge to go upstairs. What's the point of starting over, with the same lines? Others he did not know. And then, he didn't like the exams either. He didn't feel in the best position to teach.The dog kept barking stupidly. He hadn't remembered what he called him, although Petcu had been calling him by his name, night after night, since he had moved into the newly built house at the back, a year before the pandemic.It occurred to him that after he died, there would be no one to take care of Mouse. Which, frankly speaking, won't be a problem for motan. He will find another master, other feet to rub against.He took a sip of whiskey, lit another cigarette, placed it in the ashtray and pulled over his head the sweater that had been hanging from the spring on the back of the chair. A stab in the kidney made him grit his teeth. He couldn't even postpone the visit to the dentist. The light fixture on the concrete pillar in front of the house flickered shyly a few times and turned on."Let me feed you, Mouse!" God knows who will give it to you next year!He would have to tell her, too, eventually. It was harder to choose the moment. At the weekend, when she was a bit more relaxed? Oh, and don't let her search unnecessarily on Booking for offers for next summer. Or maybe it would be better to wait for her to start the conversation, after she notices that the card is empty?A cold breeze comes out of nowhere, making his skin wrinkle. The clouds had descended far enough to wipe out the ridges of the roofs. The light fixture on the pole in front of the house flickered shyly a few times and went out.

#writer #passion #contentcreator #stories #reading