Mouse (still).

.

I don't know if you can

even imagine her. Even if you manage... (and I should congratulate you here), it will be a completely wasted effort. The image you painstakingly create... will blur, lose its sharpness. After a moment. So it's completely pointless. Both my description and your image...

Simply... Gray Mouse.

A mouse like millions. Expressionless... Vanishing in a crowd of other mice... Blurry, indistinct, and completely... anonymous.

So Mouse... lives... every day... aware... of its murderous hustle and bustle.

But Mouse has a problem. She may not see the problem yet... but she definitely has it...

I guarantee it...

Mouse lives solely on momentum... and "moral" principles and other nonsense instilled in her somewhere along the way.

She doesn't feel the essence of things... it's not a waste to even try to understand it...

But she has a ready-made, proven formula for almost every situation... well, "real-life" examples of her family, her friends, and other nice pre-mades...

So Mouse is lazy... she doesn't try to seek any initiative. Besides, Mouse can be terrified... Situations where she doesn't know how to behave send her into hysterics. Mouse hates this. She avoids it...

Mouse had a rather difficult childhood. Besides, there are few lucky people who can boast of a happy one...

Mouse's father was a compulsive alcoholic. And a domestic despot... just for the record...

He tyrannized the family in moments of intoxication... which he interpreted as proper upbringing. Her mother was a very quiet woman, strongly dominated by her husband. She was, well, there's no denying it, a wreck in life; reality terrified her. She treated her marriage as a "necessary evil." Independent life was such a distant and terrifying concept that she definitely preferred her husband's insults and punches. At least it was a familiar phenomenon, something she could live with. Her mother (Mysza's grandmother) could too. And, delving deeper into the family tree, probably other women could too...

The children learned only the art of evasion from their mother. She taught them to get out of the way... to give up their own opinions... to disappear unnoticed.

Mysza was quite a self-conscious girl. She always stood on the sidelines. She was an observer of events. She never participated.

She only did what was expected of her. Nothing more. Nothing of herself. It would have been too dangerous... too alien.

In high school, she was never questioned when the teacher was looking around for a victim. She was invisible.

Other girls gossiped about her. They mocked her old, worn-out clothes, mocked her shyness, her reticence. They mocked her cautious, reserved behavior. Finally, they mocked her lack of any contact with boys. Her already proverbial... steel virginity.

And once again, the old system kicked in.

Only... what was expected... what was needed at the time...

She allowed herself to be possessed a few times, by a few boys in her class... Actually, you could say she lent herself... she wasn't particularly thrilled afterward... in fact... she didn't like it at all. That wasn't it.

But the gossip died down. She had peace. She bought it for herself... whether it was expensive... I don't know... she didn't know.

School ended.

She didn't want to return to her family home. She couldn't, it would be a disaster. This already fragile structure would collapse. And it had taken her so long to build it. She had to become independent.

Absolutely. And at all costs.

She found an apartment.

Right in the city center, with a job... luck finally smiled on her.

And then there was that nice roommate... Many evenings spent talking.

Many smiles. Some memories, some confessions, some tears.

For the first time, she felt understood, for the first time someone listened to her so attentively. For the first time, she had someone to herself, even if only for a short evening.

For the first time, she could pour out all her sorrows without fear of being ridiculed.

It was her paradise...

Evening. Dim light in a small, cluttered hallway. Just beyond it, an equally small, cluttered room. Most of the space was taken up by two beds. Between them, a table.

Two women sat opposite each other. A table separated them.

They were talking... It was an emotional conversation. Words complemented emotions and gestures.

They would mean nothing on their own.

Eyes gleaming in the semidarkness. Mouse stared into the eyes opposite her...

She found everything in them... she found more in them than she dared to search for...

Understanding, Care, interest...

And somewhere deep down... a promise...

Forget Mouse.

Soon she would be unrecognizable... I felt a change coming... But her description was unnecessary...

A hand on Mouse's cheek... Eyes...

A promise...

Tears...

A promise...

Fulfillment...