The White Cat by Gelett Burgess — Read

I came to myself with a disturbing sense that something was wrong with / me. My discomfort, increasing steadily, resolved itself into two / distinct factors -- a pain in my side at every breath and a throbbing ache / in the top of my head. I realized that I was in bed, and the first / strangeness of it struck me. I could not account for it. The wild, / spicy odor of flowers came to me, adding to my perplexity. Then I / opened my eyes.

The place was so dimly lighted that for some seconds my sluggish wits / were unable to interpret the blotches of shadow and the vague glimmering / spots. These, however, gradually resolved themselves into / comprehensible forms. I perceived that I was in a strange room, large / and airy; for even in the obscurity I got a feeling of free, clean / space, and of that chaste emptiness which is apt to distinguish the / guest-chamber of a well-kept house. I heard, now, the steady, / deliberate ticking of a clock a little way off, and somewhere below was / a small grinding sound, so low as to be almost a mere vibration, like a / coffee-mill in operation. Near by, a door closed and latched softly.