The Mouse

The mouse My wife was opening the door to the verandah when she spotted a mouse and fled to the kitchen and shouted, “Kill it, kill it!” I picked up the small animal hiding under a dry leaf that had yet to be blown away, careful not to be bitten soon the mouse relaxed in the palm of my hand. I marvelled about this tiny thing; how did it get on the seventh floor must have been climbing up at night got lost or tired and rested on our terrace There was no way I was going to kill it if there had been hundreds of them on the terrace, I would have been less friendly, seen them as vermin Looked over the railing under me on another terrace, dropped the mouse there, it landed softly alive and well, quickly shut the door, now the mouse was no longer my problem. At lunch, in the café on the first floor, there was talk about someone finding a mouse, “infestation?” she said No, darling, there is only one little mouse.