He took two steps back and stood, his hands at shoulder level. Moss came around the end of the bed. The man was no more than ten feet away. The whole room was pulsing slowly. There was an odd smell in the air. Like some foreign cologne. A medicinal edge to it. Everything humming. Moss held the shotgun at his waist with the hammer cocked. There was nothing that could have happened tha would have surprised him. He felt as if he weighed nothing. He felt as if he were floating. The man didn’t even look at him. He seemed oddly untroubled. As if this were all part of his day.
No Country for Old Men , Cormac McCarthy, 2005
The smell of fear in No Country for Old Men
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