Espying

I was visited by a mouse tonight.

It whispered out from behind a bin bag by the living room door on tiny feet (each little toe pink, translucent, perfect), a little sharp brown thing the size of my thumb. Quivery all over, graceful whiskers, intelligent face. A rush a few steps into the room, half turn, long pause. I was poised on the sofa, laptop in hands, Vaughan Williams romantic and wistful in strings from the speakers. I couldn’t read the expression on the mouse’s face.

It whirled and disappeared the way it came. Now I sit and turn my head at every movement in the corner of my eye, hoping for a new friend.