chompski

they lived in little houses, like humans, except that these houses were carved out in the trees. they never wondered why they were so inclined to mirror the path etched out by us. and i honestly couldn't care less. they had a mouse father, a mouse mother, a mouse baby and a mouse brother. and, sometimes, if you were really sneaky, you could wander through the woods and peep in on them and their fingernail-reality. if you made eye contact, they would reciprocate, pestered, annoyed, irritated. father would resume his newspaper and mother her apple pies, or at least that's how they smelled. baby never cried. but lay there still. they were projections. that much is easy. but why?