To the Mouse I Murdered This Morning

I saw you. In the dim light after dinner you walked across the kitchen floor, brazen, looking for crumbs. “Hey,” I said from the couch, insulted that you could wander by so casually. I am so much bigger than you, after all, don’t you know? And I have gotten so tired of finding shits on the stovetop in the mornings, like grains of black rice, evidence of your existence, your nightly visits to nibble and lick. Enough, enough. Gray invader, find another place. Please. I said “Hey,” and you scurried off behind the stove. That’s where you run off to, you and your brothers and sisters who have made a home in this home. And so I put out a trap, those awful sticky traps, in the narrow space between the wall and the stove and I thought: I will get you. And I did, I did. I got you. I knew I would and I did. In the morning, there you were, curled like a comma around the small cloud of marshmallow that was meant to tempt (I ate all the peanut butter). And your jaw was stuck and all of your tiny feet and your soft grey belly and you wriggled, your ribs twitched back and forth. Oh god, oh no. Please, small friend, please die of a heart attack, please. I wished that on you. Your black eyes shined. And I left you there, I left you there on the stick in the small dark space between the wall and the stove. And when I returned, I hoped you had died of a heart attack, but you squeaked instead when I put down a bag of groceries and I crouched down and looked at you, I looked and looked, and your black eyes shined and your ribs twitched and oh god oh no, this is no way for a creature to be and I considered my options. Suffocation: a plastic bag. Drowning: into the toilet. Discarding: out in the trash bins for the raccoons to do what they will with you. The word humane kept rushing across my mind. Humane, humane. I am a human and you are a mouse and I am bigger than you and you shit on the stove but your black eyes shine and I wish you could talk and I wish you lived in my pocket as a friend, you small soft animal with a beating heart and a brain that knows fear. I put you in a ziplock bag and sealed it. I’m sorry. I put that bag inside two plastic grocery bags. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I pulled the cast iron pan from the low shelf, the biggest one, the one that’s so heavy I have to hold with both hands. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. Who am I? What am I doing? Monster, brutal huge murdering monster. I held the pan up to my chest. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. I dropped it on you. It was so loud. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. To your brothers and sisters, come shit on the stove if you want because I don’t know who I am and I won’t murder anymore.