Cheerios
"Live out of your imagination, not your history."
- Stephen Covey
Pierre le Ritz. Not a fragrance he would ever be drawn to, especially after this case.
They stepped out of the cool shadowed morgue into the bright hallway. Goren wondered if she ever noticed him coming up close behind her after they had been examining a body. He did it again today. Conflicting aromas – the struggle of strong antiseptic with the sharp putrid smells of early decomposition fought within his nostrils. Inhaling her light fresh scents took that all away and eased his transition into problem-solving.
These are carefree days - all they were worried about was the case at hand and how they were going to break in the new boss. They were a team, more now than ever before, folding inward together to deflect the disapproval of a new captain. Soon it will all go wrong on a much more profound scale. He could never let that happen again and beads of sweat began to pepper his brow.
But today something was different. Instead of Eames' usual slightly floral perfume, she smelled like... Cheerios...
"Eames." He whispered.
"No Eames."
"Eames." He repeated.
"No Eames." The voice was more insistent.
He opened his eyes. Surrounded by the glow of the sunlit fresh-scented bedding, an earnest and equally dark brown pair of eyes gazed into his own. A tiny frown knit the arched eyebrows below a downy halo of blonde curls. A bowl of Cheerios lay cradled in his lap.
"No Eames. Mommy." Clarity must be assured.
He reached out his hand to lay it gently, almost reverently, on one cool chubby leg. The softest skin in the world, just like his mother's. It was impossible not to smile.
"Mommy." He whispered back in agreement and the small frown disappeared.
"Max! Where are you?"
A wild shriek accompanied a frenzy of arms and legs.
He knew it was coming. There was no point trying to avoid it. The milk hit him first, rapidly followed by a pelt of Cheerios.
And the bowl? Well, Eames proved once again her ability to handle any situation - no matter what life might throw at her.