The happy place

My wife found a dead mouse behind the door. It looked like it’d moved into a sneaker in which it spent its final breath.

Then it was thrown in the container, the sneaker repurposed as a home now finally repurposed as a casket.

Meanwhile, I was outside in the blazing sun, carpeting slowly. Sweating thirstily.

There’s now blue tarp hanging on the facades, because of renovations, so therefore I get the sense that I’m in a simulation, and there’s nothing out there.

But I know that’s not true, because the mouse is buried in a sneaker in a container outside

And out there, I feel and see the sun.