...it's too much of a coincidence for it to be someone else, someone with a better sense of smell right now than I. It's not likely to be the library, they don't want animals in here.
...it's not the socks, they're clean. Shoes were on the floor, but seem clean and pretty as ever. My trousers were on the floor folded. Shirt was on a hanger. Shirt underneath that (cold weather here) is fine.
...the scarf? That might have been on the floor. I can't remember now. It is around my neck (I like to wear scarves inside so I can seem more colourful/eccentric) and directly under my nose right now. Is that it? Am I wearing the subtle fragrance of cat piss right now? If so, someone sitting inside wearing an orange and black striped scarf that reeks of the waste fluids of a feline would certainly befit the tag of eccentric. Perhaps even homeless.
...it doesn't feel moist. Wait. The very end of it. The very end of the scarf, that's kind of flumped down. It does smell of it. It does smell of cat pee. It's not moist, but that's not the point. It does smell of it, and badly.
Great. Now I'm sitting in a public library sniffing a scarf in full view, pulling confused grimacing faces at the smell of it, and a few moments ago I was casually patting myself all over for wet spots, as if I was frisking myself for a weapon. Again, in the middle of the library.
No wonder that girl who was sitting next to me computerwise ran off. I wonder how bad this scarf really smells. Shall I put it into my backpack? Will that just make the backpack smell like pee in the future, the enclosed area capturing the aroma? I've got to do something now. I've got to go wash around my neck. Maybe I really smell like cat pee right now. Maybe it smells like I live in the same room as a litter box.
"Jamie had a fight with him, and he had to spend the night not on the sofa, but by the litterbox. Or in the litterbox."
Oh my, the smell of this piss-scarf is bad. If humanity evolves so that smelling salts do not work on us, this scarf surely will be the next generation of causing people to reel back in disgust with a frozen look of horror. My hands are tensing at the smell of this damned creature.
Right, that's it. I'm going home. No, I'm going up the road to buy 'donuts' and then I'm going home. I should throw this scarf into the lagoon with the collapsed bridge and the rusted cars and the squid and the octopi that have made these strange contraptions their new homes, and give this scarf a true sense of adventure, a story more interesting to tell to its fluffy offspring than this. The poor critter. He does not deserve this indignity.
I have a headache from all of this. A migraine. A donut will help. Two donuts will help. Fresh air. Mmm. But no sudden hand movements. It might waft the smell back into my nostrils. If I may have one thing today besides pizza, it would be not wanting this smell in my nostrils again.
Time to mosey on out of this library. Nice and easy. Play it cool. Nobody knows. I'm making eye contact with too many people right now. Wondering if they know. They might. The scarf lays limply on my lap, like a dead cat.
Someone else needs the machine next to me. It really is a good time to go. They're sniffing the air. They're onto me. They're not sitting down! Wait, now they do with a sigh and another sniff of the nose. This is bad. This is real bad. I must go.