5:20 a.m. The headlights of the train from Tłuszcz, pulling into Warszawa Śródmieście station, blind me. I have to turn around. With the train's arrival, everything here at the station comes alive. Sleepy travelers emerge onto the platform, often walking with their eyes still closed. They try to prolong their blissful slumber for a moment. I have to be especially careful then. These people don't look at their feet at all; they just walk straight ahead—none of them would think they might accidentally step on me. Ten minutes later, Mrs. Stasia arrives and opens the ticket office. Before she knows it, she's already busy. People are coming for tickets like they're hot cakes.
The worst time is around seven. That's when the train from Otwock arrives. The crowds are always unbearable! I've never been to Otwock, but judging by the number of people getting off, I'd say it's a very large city. Maybe even as large as Warsaw...
People generally aren't friendly to me. I don't understand why. I've never done anything bad to anyone. Once, a smartly dressed man with a briefcase even tried to kick me and shouted, "Get that rat out of here!" It was very unpleasant. I'm not some dirty, disgusting rat, but a wonderful mouse, purebred to the sixth generation. I always take great care of myself—after all, being a mouse requires something. I keep my fur clean, I sharpen my teeth quite often. I move gracefully, and I don't eat just anything. Now I've learned that when that dreadful Otwock train arrives, it's best to hide in a burrow. There's no danger there. My apartment is very cozy, located at the end of platform one. I have a special bed made of toothpicks I once stole from Mr. Robert's shop. Of course, I also stockpile supplies. I always have a few bread crumbs, a kernel of corn, or a piece of potato chips. I'm not in danger of starving, oh no. But what I like most about my apartment is that it's not just a regular burrow. We mice have a whole system of secret passages that allow us to secretly move to various parts of the station. People don't know about our passages, and even if they did, they wouldn't fit through them. And I can easily walk from my burrow to the other platform, to Mrs. Stasia's ticket office, to Mr. Robert's shop, or even wander a short distance along the tracks. Once, I reached a place where there was no platform anymore. But I was very scared – it was terribly dark and unpleasant. I never ventured that far again.
Of course, I'm not the only mouse living at Warszawa Śródmieście station. There are a few of us here. We often visit each other. Thanks to the underground corridors, we don't have to worry about being noticed by people. And when we do meet, sometimes, by combining our efforts, we manage to get a treat like a piece of yellow cheese.
Only one person is my friend. He's Mr. Władzio, who has lived at the station for a very, very long time. He moved here before me. He carries two enormous bags with him, always stuffed to the brim. When I'm hungry and I'm running out of supplies, I immediately wander over to Mr. Władzio. He's very helpful; if he happens to have something to eat, he'll share it with me. When he goes to bed, I'm nearby and make sure no one disturbs him while he talks.
The stallholders are also a regular at the station. They're the kind of gentlemen who come and sell magazines, records, and books. They look very nice, but I've never tried to make contact with them. After all, why would they need to know a little mouse like me?
The worst time at the station is between 4 and 6 p.m. Then the crowds come again, everyone in a hurry, tired, busy. Trains keep arriving. There's such a noise and commotion that it's unbearable. The worst are the loudspeakers! A screeching voice emanating from them announces the trains' destinations. As if people couldn't figure it out for themselves... But I've also learned how to cope with those awful two hours. I walk a bit down the corridor and reach a place where it's quiet and quiet. It's my little secret; even the other mice don't know about this corridor. The route here is quite complicated; you have to take several turns. At first, I had trouble finding my way here; I even got lost once and spent over an hour searching for the right direction. Now I don't have such adventures anymore; I know this area like the back of my hand.
When I return, it's quiet and peaceful. It's the most pleasant moment of the day. All the mice come out onto the platform, on what's called a hunt. We search for treats that the travelers have dropped. We rarely return empty-handed. A piece of bread, fruit, sometimes even chocolate is found almost every day. However, during the hunt, you have to be especially careful. With such a pleasant activity, time flies, and the cleaners come promptly at 9 p.m. Then you have to return to the burrow immediately. The cleaners don't like us, and recently they bought a disgusting tomcat. I don't understand where in the world such disgusting animals came from. Why would anyone need such a tomcat? It's neither pretty nor useful, and yet you can breed a beautiful, plump mouse!
After the hunt is over, you usually don't come out of the burrow. After all, you have to rest sometime! Tomorrow will be another day...
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