“Cheer up,” said the mouse.
“No. I don’t want to,” said the
man.
“Aw, come on man. I’ll bring you
some cheese if I can get a smile out of you,” said the mouse.
“No. I don’t like cheese. I’m
lactose intolerant,” said the man.
“I don’t know what lactose
intolerance is, but I’m pretty sure intolerance is bad,” said the mouse.
The man sat against the wall. He
rested his head on his arms folded over his knees. He felt his eyes watering
with the tears that he was sure would come.
“C’mon man, a nice golden piece
of cheese always cheers up my friends,” said the mouse.
“I told you. I can’t eat cheese.
It makes me sick,” said the man.
“What!?! Cheese makes you
sick!?! That’s…just unheard of,” said the mouse.
“Well, it’s true so just deal with
it,” said the man.
The mouse scratched at his
whiskers and sniffed the air around the man. He scurried around the man’s feet,
back and forth, testing the air and rubbing his whiskers with his paws.
“You don’t smell sick,” said the
mouse.
“Well, it’s not a sickness you
can smell,” said the man.
“Us mice are really good at
smelling things so, I’m pretty sure you’re fine,” said the mouse, “Plus my
brother is a doctor, so I think I know what I’m talking about.”
The man lifted his head to look
at the small brown mouse now sitting between his feet. The mouse was staring
back at the man with a hint of a smile on his little face.
“A mouse doctor you say,” asked
the man.
“Absolutely,” said the mouse.
“Where did he get his degree,”
asked the man.
“Mouse-ouri State,” said the
mouse.
The man smiled. A slight
chuckle. A bigger smile. A belly laugh. The man remembered that sometimes, the
little things aren’t as so awful as they might seem.
“See, you like cheese after all,”
said the mouse.
“I guess I do. I guess I do,”
smiled the man.
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