Stockholm

Chapter 3

Bud curls around my ankles as I pop open a fresh can of cat food for him. His purr box rattling so hard it sounds like I'm in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Hang on." I murmur, as he looks up at me and mouths meow.

The stench always makes my stomach want to curl, the gross gravy that it's smothered in a close second. But Bud seems to enjoy it. I drop the can on the ground, the metal twinging against the ceramic tile of the kitchen floor before I leave the kitchen to get myself dressed for work.

My uniform hangs pressed on a hanger from last night when I ironed it. I slip a white under shirt on, before pulling it from the hanger. My fingers deftly move across the buttons, a mindless motion, a motion I've done countless times over the past several years until I'm dressed. Slipping my wallet into my pocket, I buckle my holster around my waist, servicing my gun before clipping into place where it will rest, hopefully the entire day.

A quick glance in the mirror to make sure my collar is straight and my uniform is precise, I slip my feet into my boots and meet Bud in the kitchen. He's licked his can of food clean, purring loudly by the door as he waits for me to take care of his mess.

My mom is still asleep, her bedroom door open how I left it when I helped her to bed the night before. She long ago stopped closing the door, stopped being aware that it was even open more than likely. It's easier to check on her if I leave it open. A quiet snore rattles it's way to me as I leave the same note I do every morning under the empty mug my dad used to use all the time. At some point she'll wake up and stumble her way out where she'll fill the mug halfway with coffee, the other whiskey before she stares at it glassy eyed and broken hearted. I tried to pack the mug away, get it out of sight so she didn't have to see it anymore, she wouldn't have to burden herself day in and day out with the fact that he's not here to drink from it. But she found it, clutching to it like it was dad. And ever since she's taken her coffee in it too.

Bud follows me out the door, instantly trotting off without so much as a goodbye. I watch as he disappears into the neighbors foliage, murmuring "stay close" not that I think he listens.

As I walk to my truck, I fish my phone out of my pocket and call Lorna. She answers on the sixth ring, something I hate. I swear she waits until the last second to grab the phone just to torture me. It leaves me feeling anxious, a wide range of scenarios of why she isn't picking up right away cycling through my mind.

"Hey you." She breathes into the phone. A low, husky tone that melts away any anxiety that was building at the sound of her usual greeting.

"Hey back."

"You coming to see me today?" She asks.

I can nearly bring her to focus right in front of me. She's probably standing in her room, rifling through her clean laundry basket for something to wear as she dances through her small house in nothing but a pair of panties and a bra as she gets ready for her day. She's a dental hygienist. It's actually how we met.

I had shown up for an appointment, the woman who had cleaned my teeth for the better part of my life had retired. I hadn't thought anything of it, it was just another day, doing another thing that had to be done, it wasn't going to be significant. But when the door that separated the lobby from the rest of the building opened and my name got called it became significant. My heart had beat wildly in my chest the entire time I sat kicked back in the chair with her hands in my mouth. She'd ask me a question I had no way of answering but I didn't care, I liked the sound of her voice. It took me another two appointments to work up the nerve to ask her for coffee. My face was partially numb from a tooth I had to have filled because of a cavity, I was probably drooling as I stumbled my way through a poorly thought out proposal of coffee. But somehow I must have charmed her.