Mr. Williamson made pathetic mewing sounds from underneath his sofa fortress. Zooey tried to coax him out but failed miserably after he bit her left hand.

“I think there is something wrong with Mr.Williamson,” Fritz said curiously, “Should we get him some aromatherapy?”

“I know just the therapy,” Zooey said, making her way to the rack of cds and smiling as she selected a Charlotte Gainsbourg album and put the song 5:55 on repeat.

“Just help me clean this up,” she directed Fritz, “He will come out soon enough.”

Fritz cleared out the linen closet in the hall and filled it with his coffee mugs, stacking and stuffing them into every crevice. When he ran out of room, he used the cupoard under the bathroom sink and the blank spaces under his bed. When he finished, he noticed that Zooey had brought the living room back to its original grandeur.

Zooey sat with her feet up on the sofa, drinking a cup of coffee and listening to the music. Mr. Williamson quietly emerged from his refuge in awe.