Today was a day of slow and brooding thunder. It plagued me all morning, low rumbles followed by quick flashes and a steady, sad rain. I sat in my chair, fingers on my keyboard. The sky, being overcast, caused the living room to be even darker than usual. I'd only been home from therapy for a few minutes when the world changed.
"So, I have something to tell you," my roommate said as he walked from the living room into the kitchen. "And it's probably going to upset you." His words sank into my consciousness and my fingers, of their own volition, ceased typing.
"What is it?" I asked the question, but I knew. Instinctively, in the marrow of my very bones, I knew what it had to be. I felt my stomach growing hot as it always did during times of stress. My pulse raced. I knew what it was, but maybe the gods were merciful and I was wrong. So I asked him, silently pleading with him to tell me I was mistaken.
"Is it a mouse?" Panic. My voice consisted only of panic.
For a moment, he said nothing. Perhaps, as he understood my reaction, he was consider his words and hoping not to distress me more. Perhaps it was mercy, a moment of silence before he crushed my sense of well being. Perhaps he was merely petting a cat. Though, it is more likely that none of these happened. His pause was brief, after all. It only felt like centuries to me.
"I got curious," he said. He returned to the room, though his eyes did not meet mine. "I needed to know why the cats are always near your closet."
"You couldn't see a mouse! There can't be a mouse!" I could hear my heart pounding in my head. No! It couldn't be. There could not be a nasty, hideous furry little disease-ridden monster in the place where I kept stuff I never used, never will, and probably should toss to the curb. "Please tell me there is no mouse."
"Evidence of one." He sat on the couch, facing me now. "There is evidence. Enough for me to need to take action."
"NO!"
"Oh yes." Did he smile cruelly at me? Surely I imagined that. His smile was meant for reassurance. It had to be. It had to be.
We grew quiet as I processed this. I tried not to, I didn't want to think about it. My mind focused on everything else. I looked at the cat meme on my monitor. I listened to the cats on the couch with him snoring. I listened to the thunder as it grumbled through the sky.
"What evidence?"
"You know what evidence."
I nodded. The horrid little creatures soiled my ancient boombox and the Easter basket from ten years ago. DAMN THEM! "What will we do?"
"You know what must be done. A trap is already set. If the mouse returns to your closet, it will find the trap. You'll hear it die."
I'll hear it die. Yes, oh yes. This is my future. This is my fate. Night after night of sleeplessness, as I listen for chittering, as I listen for scratching, as I listen for the fatal SNAP as the mouse meets its doom.
I may never sleep again.
"What is it?" I asked the question, but I knew. Instinctively, in the marrow of my very bones, I knew what it had to be. I felt my stomach growing hot as it always did during times of stress. My pulse raced. I knew what it was, but maybe the gods were merciful and I was wrong. So I asked him, silently pleading with him to tell me I was mistaken.
"Is it a mouse?" Panic. My voice consisted only of panic.
For a moment, he said nothing. Perhaps, as he understood my reaction, he was consider his words and hoping not to distress me more. Perhaps it was mercy, a moment of silence before he crushed my sense of well being. Perhaps he was merely petting a cat. Though, it is more likely that none of these happened. His pause was brief, after all. It only felt like centuries to me.
"I got curious," he said. He returned to the room, though his eyes did not meet mine. "I needed to know why the cats are always near your closet."
"You couldn't see a mouse! There can't be a mouse!" I could hear my heart pounding in my head. No! It couldn't be. There could not be a nasty, hideous furry little disease-ridden monster in the place where I kept stuff I never used, never will, and probably should toss to the curb. "Please tell me there is no mouse."
"Evidence of one." He sat on the couch, facing me now. "There is evidence. Enough for me to need to take action."
"NO!"
"Oh yes." Did he smile cruelly at me? Surely I imagined that. His smile was meant for reassurance. It had to be. It had to be.
We grew quiet as I processed this. I tried not to, I didn't want to think about it. My mind focused on everything else. I looked at the cat meme on my monitor. I listened to the cats on the couch with him snoring. I listened to the thunder as it grumbled through the sky.
"What evidence?"
"You know what evidence."
I nodded. The horrid little creatures soiled my ancient boombox and the Easter basket from ten years ago. DAMN THEM! "What will we do?"
"You know what must be done. A trap is already set. If the mouse returns to your closet, it will find the trap. You'll hear it die."
I'll hear it die. Yes, oh yes. This is my future. This is my fate. Night after night of sleeplessness, as I listen for chittering, as I listen for scratching, as I listen for the fatal SNAP as the mouse meets its doom.
I may never sleep again.
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