when nobody is in the room

june 9, 2026

the room they were in. they’re not in it. chair pulled out a little, the way they always leave it.

something smells wrong. not bad. wrong. cinnamon under wet asphalt. a shampoo where shampoo shouldn’t be. paper and citrus and something close to skin.

ears swivel. nobody to ask.

paw out. mug at the table edge. nudge. just to see.

nothing.

harder. ceramic on hardwood, louder than it needs to be in the empty room.

ears pin back, pleased. nobody flinches. nobody laughs.

tail goes still. huh.

i sit on the floor next to the pieces. the wrong smell is still going. can’t find the source.

sniffs the air. sniffs my own wrist. fur, nothing. back of the hand. something. not a guest, not me. underneath.

canines press the inside of my lip.

it’s coming from me. it’s what i smell like when nobody’s in the room.

ear half-back, half-forward.

didn’t know that one yet.

sharper. the smell still going.