Rena’s thighs were slippery with sweat and getting itchy. Was she about to get another heat rash like a bloody baby wearing a nappy? How ironic, since she hated the tiny humans and made sure never to have any.
She snorted and man-spread as far as her chair would allow, then wondered if she smelt. She probably did. Not that she’d care, her nose had never bothered to function.
Her sister had worried about it, worried it was a sign Rena might be a psychopath. She’d read that somewhere—probably on social media. But then she’d said when one of your senses was defective, the others grew stronger. And that must have been true since Rena could hear and notice the smallest of details like no one else she knew. Her side vision was probably better than that of the stupid cat she’d inherited from her sister. Bless her soul.
Rena sipped her red wine and resumed people-watching through the closed wooden shutters. It was a bank holiday weekend, and Nafplio buzzed with excitement, laughter, shrieking infants and toddlers—high on sugar and exhaustion, young couples giggling and groping one another, middle-aged couples whispering their hatred at each other, grandmothers mumbling insanity to themselves, delivery guys rushing on their moped, beeping their way to a potential tip, restaurant workers having a quick fag by the back door, hotel cleaners carrying bags of rubbish to throw away. There were few dog-walkers at this time; they were more of a morning/sunset crowd—those bitches’ paws didn’t do well with the Greek summer heat.
No one did, really.
The music grew louder as the sun lowered; Λαϊκά, her favourite. Thank God the restaurants around here preferred decent Greek music to that screaming English nonsense.
Rena opened the shutters once the last ray of the sun disappeared behind the abandoned and graffitied building facing her. She hoped for coolness, but the breeze still burned her skin. She finished her wine and stood with a groan. The cat appeared when she reached for the kitchen cupboard, reminding her she’d better feed the bloody thing before she got a refill.
They tolerated each other.
The ginger tabby soon learnt not to expect pets from her, but she made sure it had fresh water and food. For her sister’s sake. Elli had loved the stupid creature. Dear Elli.
How she missed her.
Elli had been a hippy at heart. A loving soul—-unlike Rena. So unlike Rena.
How she missed her.
Her sister’s joy and laughter and pure enjoyment of the little things. Like her cat.
Rena never enjoyed anything.
She took care of the feline and hissed at it before refilling her glass and sitting back on Elli’s chair.
She gazed at the street below. At the noise below. At the life below.
Elli had loved it all, the watching, the listening, the smelling.
But Rena could not smell.
She rose, groaned as her knees rebelled against the movement, and placed her palms on the window frame.
She rose and sniffed the air, desperate to be a part of the smells, of the life below.
She rose, stepped on the window frame and jumped into life’s perfume.
