21 July 2012
I am small, tiny, quiet. My friends call me Mouse. I don't mind, not really. My job requires me to be quiet, working with the books and catalogues down in the museum basement. It's not like I can talk to them, now, is it? Even though I do.
At night I wander home to my husband of 16 years, he will cook me dinner, smile softly and give me a hopeful peck upon my lonely cheek.
But what I want to tell you isn't about him, or us, or anything so dreary, it's about the day that changed my life.
It started with a wink as he passed me in the museum corridor, all I could do was look away, embarrassed. To the world he was nothing special, average build, average brown hair, brown eyes. But that wink - it had a certain magic in it.
Later, he was there, the average guy - sitting in the staff room, alone.
"Tea?" He smiled at me.
I nodded, too shy to speak.
Handing the cup to me, his fingers brushed over mine purposefully. I pulled away, he only smiled.
"You look lonely," He said.
I frowned, "Who are you to judge that?"
"Oh!" He exclaimed gleefully, "You do talk."
My frown deepened, so I turned my attention to a rich tea biscuit.But he took my hand, held it for a moment up to his soft lips. I didn't pull away. I couldn't.
"Such loneliness in these hands," He murmured, a strong finger tracing the lines on my upturned palm.
"I'm married," I said, almost a whimper.
He smiled, kissing my hand again. "Show me your work."
No one ever came down here, this was my domain, my books, my catalogues, my system... And yet here he was, following me through the racks in silence.
I peeked back at him, he caught my eye and winked. My stomach flipped.
Reaching the shelf I was organising, I thought he would turn to leave, but he didn't.
"Sit with me," He said, dropping to the floor, pulling me down with him. I sprang back up in an instant.
"What are you doing?" I asked in a whisper.
"Saving your life," He smiled, pulling me down again with a gentle tug.
My frown only deepened. This was an average man, average build, average everything. Except that. What was it? A glimmer?
His fingers traced the creases on my forehead, it never occurred to me to feel awkward; for once in my life. Once my brow relaxed, he traced over my eyebrows, cheek bones, jaw line... Fingers rested on my lips. His brown eyes were locked onto mine, searching my soul, searching my mind.
The moment he smiled, I laughed. The first, real laugh I'd laughed in over 10 years.
His fingers dropped away from my face, disappointment flooded my veins. No one touched me like he did.
"Go home to your husband," He said, "Laugh for him, remind him who you are."
I shut my eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, and when I opened them he was gone. Like I always knew he would be, the man I married, buried in my mind.
That night, when he kissed my cheek, I smiled into his average, brown eyes and without a word, he understood.
Mrs Mouse • Opuss № I