Neighbors

In the beginning I thought they were on the roof. The first night I woke at five a.m. to hear them scuttle along the eaves I was even frightened by it. But since the snow has fallen and the chill has remained along with the light dusting on my little house, I have seen no proof that such a thing existed.

I realize, now, that they must be inside the walls. I can here them dart so fast from my kitchen to just above my bed in a blink. While once I was spooked by their presence, now it is somehow soothing. I have company. There is another living being awake with me in the silent, cold hours of sleeplessness. They are foraging, pacing, eating. Perhaps they are making babies.

I imagine them like characters of a Disney movie, stealing my cheese when I am asleep and setting their tables with little bits of stolen lace. That glove that has gone missing is the new curtain for their Theater and my shopping receipts read like their daily newspapers.

"Stocks are up by un gant for 7 euro 29," one says removing his monocle.

"Tsk, tsk, how absurd!" Says the other, taking a crumb of baguette and passing over it with a bit of butter. "And during a financial crisis!"

"Oh hush now," says a gentle, plump lady shuffling in with a kettle, "Have some more tea and keep your voices down. She's trying to sleep."

With that the two gentlemen light their pipes and sip their tea by the cool of the half moon light.