The Mouse

     6:02 AM in the morning. I have precisely one minute to make my bed. Forty five seconds to dress. Fifteen seconds to put on my shoes. Exactly two minutes to comb my hair, clean my face and brush my teeth.

     6:06, time for breakfast. At 6:10 the coffee table is set and I sit to begin enjoying my meal.

     Perfection fascinates me. Everything involving me and my life is arranged and scheduled. To be honest, I do not trouble being defined as meticulous nor scrupulous, it flatters me.    

     My so usual morning routine has been disrupted, though. Now, standing in the middle of my window frame, there is a mouse. One very petty mouse!

     It has been visiting me for the past two weeks. Always positioned in the same exact same spot. It infuriates me. How dare such a repugnant little creature appear so abruptly in my apartment like this?! And how could it be so incredibly brainless to stay?

     That's it! Today I will buy a trap right after work.

     Ever since I left, I have been unable to stop thinking about this mouse though. Its eyes. So dark and deep you could simply get lost in them. It teases me how they are constantly looking at me when I'm having breakfast. The fact it will not stop picking at its little rat nose all the time does not help. And that so annoying breathing. Fast enough to drive anyone mad. I cannot concentrate now, all because of that petty mouse! There is an open file at my laptop, yet its contents are at the moment unrelevant to me. How am I supposed to work if I am constantly remembering those big hands, that aren't in any way proportionate to the rest of its body. Again! I need to pay attention.

     What was left of the day didn't differ much. Therefore I immediately go to the store and buy the most expensive trap of them all. I will not allow any sort of mistakes in my plan.

     Once home, I head straight to the window to finally end with this madness that dared to interfere with my beloved routine.

     But I can't.

     What is the matter with me? As soon as I arrive I try to place the trap but something, more likely someone, stops me. He had become part of the routine now and though I despised that, it was tragically true.

     So I throw the trap in the garbage and go to sleep.

     It is 6:10 and I'm at the table waiting for the mouse to appear at some point, yet it does not. What has happened? Where is it? I check if I am somehow recalling last night's events wrong, but the trap is still in the garbage untouched, and that bastard is nowhere to be found.

     Although it is a Wednesday and my duty is to be at the office, I remain here.

     I'm sitting, looking directly towards the bastard's spot. While I stare, my thoughts consume me and next time I check the wall clock, five hours have already passed. It is still not here. Why? Was this some sort of plan? To come every single morning and visit until I grew attached to it and then disappear?!

     Two days have gone by and my eyes cannot seem to stop making contact with the window. I only stand if necessary, like my body just begging for something to consume.

     Fifty hours and thirty three minutes since the incident.

     The world around me is spinning, yet I prevail. It spins and time does with it too. The time carries weeks. Weeks to months, months to years and years to decades. And I'm still waiting here, because I know one day he will return and we will see one another again.

     With time also comes death.

     I close my eyes and when I open them a gentle tear drops. Looking at the window I calmly say,

     "It took you long."