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A Mouse of Epic Proportions
“Do you hear that scratching sound?” I asked.
He grunted softly, refusing to even open his eyes. “Yeah. It’s nothing.”
“It’s that mouse, again. I saw it this morning.” She rolled onto her side, leaning to peer over the edge of the bed.
When he didn’t say anything, she rolled back over. “Hey…Can you just get it?
“I’ll get it tomorrow,” he said.
“I can’t sleep with that sound. I don’t want a mouse in here,” she complained.
His body shifted, pulling the cover along with him as he rolled away from her. The broad expanse of his back bare for her to see, as he spoke half into his pillow, “It’s like midnight thirty. Just go to sleep.”
“Why can’t you just get the damn mouse?” She bit out, pushing up onto her elbows.
“Christ, woman. I’m sleeping.”
She was fully up then, sitting high in the bed. Her fingers clasped around his shoulder, pulling him over onto his back. “Get the fucking mouse.”
“I’ll get traps tomorrow. Now shut up and sleep,” he said.
“Oh sure. When I was pregnant you got up to get me Poptarts from the store at 3 am, but I can’t get you up now to get a damn mouse,” she mumbled, pulling her fingers through the long tangles of her hair.
“It’s probably not even a mouse,” he said.
“You’d just get up and go. Anytime I asked for something. You wanted to do things for me,” she continued.
“It’s probably just the damn cat, under the bed in one of those boxes it likes to sleep in.”
“But now, now I can’t even get you to catch a mouse. Now you don’t even pay attention to me,” she fired off. Frustrated, she yanked her hair back into a messy ponytail, while he rolled back over to show her his back.
“I’ll get the fucking mouse tomorrow.”
“You don’t even kiss me right anymore. You know? Like we used to? You don’t even kiss me right when we fuck. You barely do it,” she was rambling now, her voice an explosion of small missiles. She kicked the covers off her legs. She needed to get up, to move.
“I’ll get the traps in the morning!”
She crawled out of the bed, snapping the light on and kicking the box. The sound of skittering feet across the hardwood floor set her teeth on edge.
“You can’t even get up to help me get a mouse!” She screamed at him.
He sat up then, eyes open and bloodshot, his hair a long tangled mess.
“You aren’t pregnant anymore.”
With that she turned and opened the door. It squeaked on its hinges. Hot tears filled her eyes, bubbled over, swam down her cheeks.
He flopped back against the pillow, yanking the blanket up over his chest. “Where the hell are you going?” He asked.
“I’ve got traps under the kitchen sink…I’m going to catch a mouse.”
Herstory Lesson: Don’t let the big things build up inside you. They explode out at the most inopportune of times.
Word Count: 491