It was halfway through his lunch at the bistro that Kost realized the usual line cook wasn't there, and that was likely the reason why his sandwich tasted different. The wolf looked up from the half-eaten food on his plate, leaning forward over the counter to see who it was manning the diner's flat-top grill.
"Need something, hon?" Maggie, the bovine waitress ever-clad in plaid knee-length dresses, moved over to where he sat.
"Is Ivan working today?" Kost asked, tapping the thick French bread on his plate. The crunchy crust crinkled under his blunt claw.
"Nah." Maggie shook her head. "He called off sick, didn't want to spread it around. Is it not good? Want me to take it back?"
"No!" Kost picked up the half of the sandwich he was working on and took another big bite. The smoky, spicy flavor of kielbasa complimented with peppers and onions burst in his muzzle, and he chewed long and slow to savor every bit of the delicious mouthful. "It's good. Really good today."
Maggie smiled. "I'm glad."
Kost took another large bite as she left him be, and when she wasn't looking, slowly licking the sandwich juice off his fingers. It was incredibly rude, and he could practically hear the
thwap
of a nun's ruler on the edges of his hearing. But it was too good not to. What in the world was on this thing?
He lifted the top piece of the bread. Everything there was normal - meat, sliced peppers, diced onions, all partially cooked separately then combined in a single pan to simmer together before being slid onto the bread. Then he looked a little closer, and saw some manner of seasoning layered liberally over all the components of the sandwich. He lowered his head and took a sniff. It wasn't anything he recognized, but it smelled heavenly.
Kost devoured the other half of the sandwich quickly as most of the lunch crowd at Maggie's wrapped up and left, heading back to work or their day to day lives. Though he'd been coming here for years, and knew their faces, Maggie herself was the only one he talked to on a regular basis. He had little in common with anyone anymore.
His phone on the counter beeped. Twelve-thirty. Time to get a move on.
Kost wiped his muzzle on a napkin and pushed his plate further back from the counter, fishing a ten and a five out of his wallet and leaving them on the counter as he got up. For a brief moment, he craned his neck to see just who it was that was working behind the line that night. He didn't see any of Ivan's bearish bulk, only the briefest glimpse of a spotted tail on the corner of the window to the back. A cheetah?
No time to think about it. "See you tomorrow, Maggie!" he said as he turned to leave.
"Bye hon!" Maggie called as she hurried to a table with a fresh pot of coffee.
Kost only got halfway down the block outside before the summer heat had him panting. Every year it seemed to get hotter, or maybe that was just him getting older. That could probably be the reasoning for everything these days. His step faltered for a moment, but he kept going to where he was parked further down the block to the car dealership where he worked. At least it was Friday and he had the weekend off. Penelope was coming on Sunday for lunch, and from the rather brusque way she'd answered her messages recently she was probably having a rough week. It was his job, as her dad, to help her through rough spots such as that.
It only got hotter as he reached the dealership lot. The sun baked the pavement nonstop, the three feet or so above the blacktop shimmering with heat haze. Every salesperson who wasn't working with someone was clustered under the pop-up tent in the middle of the lot, sucking down all the water they could lay paws on.
"Hey, Kost," Randy said, the fox greeting him with a friendly wave. "Went to Maggie's?"
"Yeah," Kost said. "I would've invited you but you were working with those wolverines. Did they take the truck?"
"Yep!" Randy chirped, holding up four fingers. "We settled on four percent. They co-signed and got the lower rate. Their kid seemed happy."
"I don't blame him, that truck was a steal for the price," Kost said, getting a cup of water for himself from the cooler. His throat was feeling incredibly scratchy all of a sudden. Probably the broiling heat from the walk from the cafe back to the lot.
"No kidding, I..." Randy's ears perked up as a minivan pulled onto the lot, a family of muskrats emerging slowly out of it as if they were scouting for threats. Which, to be fair, Kost and his co-workers kind of were. "You want to take that one?" Randy asked, pointing at them.
Kost shook his head, sucking down the water as the feeling in his throat persisted. "You can. I need some more water."
Randy loped off with a spring in his step as Kost poured himself another cup of water. Then another. And another. Still the feeling persisted. He put a paw up to his throat, running blunt claws through the greying fur there. Nothing felt swollen, and there was no way it could be his tonsils, those had been removed forty years ago. A cavity maybe? Since when did cavities make your throat itch?
The minutes ticked by, as Randy led the muskrats off to the used car lot to look at a van and the rest of them stood waiting to help anyone that needed it or any new marks that pulled in looking for something. Kost kept sucking down water, his throat feeling more and more irritated as his head felt hotter and hotter. He blinked sweat from his eyes, feeling his breathing become more labored. Was he... no, he'd just been to the doctor last week and had gotten a clean bill of health, he couldn't be having a heart attack.
Maybe it was a panic attack. His daughter was studying psychology and she'd told him about them. They came out of nowhere and could floor you. He certainly felt off, and a more than a little panicked.
He turned and hurried out from underneath the tent, following where he'd seen Randy go with the muskrats. He found them behind the SUVs, Randy in the middle of an animated sales pitch. "So you see," the fox was saying, "if you spring for this one instead of this one you get more gas mileage, which is excellent if you're going to be..."
"Randy, can I borrow you for a moment?" Kost said in a low voice.
"Sure! Be just a moment, folks." Randy turned and came around to the side of the SUV that Kost was on. "What's up?"
"I'm not feeling so hot," Kost said. "Well, I'm feeling hot, but like... not in a good way."
Haven't felt like that since Trish,
he thought. "Can I take the afternoon? I'll be in early on Monday, I promise."
Randy's ears flicked and he patted Kost on the shoulder. "Kost, man, I know you've already exceeded your quotas for the month and we have a week left. Take the afternoon, come back fresh on Monday like normal, no worries."
Kost smiled at the other canine. "Thanks, Randy."
"No prob, old timer. Go get some rest." He patted Kost on the shoulder, then turned and loped back to the muskrats.
Kost wove his way through the lot to behind the sales building, where the employees parked. He unlocked the sedan he drove and got inside, turned on the car, cranked up the A/C, and cracked the windows to let the heat rise up and out. The fur on his face was drenched in sweat, and he rubbed it with his paws. What in the world was going on?
His house was a short drive from the dealership, and he kept turning up the air as he went. Despite the sub-sixty degree chill blasting him right in the face, his head still felt as though he was holding it right in front of an exhaust pipe with his muzzle open so it blew right down his throat. It was the worst he'd felt in over a year, ever since...
Kost clamped down on that train of thought as he pulled into the driveway of his house. As he stopped and turned off the car, he felt the world lurch underneath him. He took a few long breaths to steady himself, then got up and out of the car and went inside. The house interior blurred past him as memory guided him to his bedroom, to the king sized bed that now slept only one. He flopped down on it, not even resting his head on the pillows, and was out like a light.
Remember what you are.
Who are you?
I am the one who remembers. But what about you, my dear wolf. Do you remember?
I don't understand. Am I dreaming?
I don't know. Are you?
Kost woke without a start, his eye simply snapping open. He looked across the bed, at the mirror affixed to the top of the bureau on the left wall of the room. A frazzled looking middle-aged wolf stared back at him, his golden eye wide with the pupil dilated, his shirt wrinkled to a degree a dry cleaning might be warranted.
He sighed and rolled over, sitting up slowly and putting his face into his paws. All the unpleasantness from earlier was gone. His throat felt normal, his head no longer throbbing. All it had taken was a nap it seemed. Kost glanced at the clock, and his ears pinned back. A three-hour nap to be precise.
The wolf sighed and got to his feet, stripping out of his collared work shirt and tossing it in the hamper. Laundry would have to be done this weekend. Mentally he ran through a checklist of the other chores that needed doing as he padded across the hall to the bathroom.
He studied himself in the mirror carefully, looking for anything out of the ordinary. With Trish, it had all started with a lump behind her ear they'd ignored until it was too late. Kost wasn't about to take any chances. He tilted his head this way and that, running claws through his fur as he checked every inch of himself, even going so far as to open up his mouth and angle it so the light shone down his throat. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Kost sighed and leaned on the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. "Just relax," he implored himself. "You deserve a weekend off."
His ear flicked as he heard a knock at the door. After a quick moment to determine whether or not he looked decent enough - emphasis on enough - he left the bathroom to answer the door.
Kost took a breath to steady himself, then opened the door with a single pull. "Hello, Gabrielle."
Gabrielle was one of the few humans who lived in their predominantly fur neighborhood, an older woman of Puerto Rican heritage who served as president of the local homeowner's association. She was... nice enough, but
incredibly
anal about the association's standards and requirements. Kost had lived next to her for thirty years, yet despite them both being empty-nesters, had never managed to have a conversation with her that could be described as friendly. Most barely cracked cordial. Not even Trish had been able to to mollify her frosty demeanor.
"Kost, hi," Gabrielle said. She was wearing business clothes, likely for doing work in her home office. The button up shirt was tight across her ample chest, her the curve of her hip highlighted by the sheer black skirt she wore. She hadn't even put on more comfortable shoes to make the walk over, still wearing wedge heels. "Might I come in for a brief moment?"
Kost sighed and held the door open wider. The rare occasions where Gabrielle had something positive to talk to him about, she never needed to leave his front porch. Every time she'd asked to come in, it was never good news. She'd seen a lot of the inside of his house the past year.
She breezed past him, her shampoo tickling his sensitive nose. Coconut, much more natural than some of the artificial smells that plagued the scent isles in department stores. Her heels clicked on the terrazzo floors as she stopped in the middle of his living room and turned to face him. "Didn't I ask you last week to mow your lawn?"
Kost looked out the window. The green expanse of his lawn
was
looking a bit long and wild, weeds springing up in small bunches here and there. "I think you did, yes."
