[You Trekked Forward]

You trekked forward through the walls of the house, ignoring the anxious knot that was gnawing away at your stomach; the bean who lived in this house had begun to set mouse traps around in hopes of catching the little vermin that had been squirreling away her granola bars. You were smarter than a common house mouse but the traps still put you on edge. The bean was bound to be more observant now, looking for any sign of the little creature that had made its business there, which was you. It was time you moved out before you were caught for real.

You planned on going two houses down, a full day trip through the dangerous jungles of the backyards. It would be the third time you have moved houses, you didn’t have the best odds at only four inches but they were better than those that were moving out for the first time. The only problem was that you had been avoiding “borrowing” food all week, an attempt to make the bean think you had left the house on your own, but now your rations were all gone. You needed something to eat or you would be too weak to make it the next house.

The small hole in the pantry you had used to get your meals was now blocked off by one of the mousetraps. Your only option was to “borrow” something off the counter. You wiggle through a small hole and push the loose tile that hid your entrance out of the way. The space behind the microwave was not the biggest, nor cleanest, of space but you had to deal with it for the moment. You peeked around the side, not seeing the bean but hearing the television being played in the other room. You had to make this quick.

You ran across the counter to the closest item of food you could see: a bag of chips. It was closed with a clamp but you could easily open it and grab some chips. Not the best option, but it was currently your only option. You kept an ear on the sounds coming from the tv, waiting to see if it would pause, as you pulled open the chip bag and placed one after the other into your hand-made bag.

You ducked your head out of the lip of the bag just as the floor creaked loudly behind you. You didn’t dare look back as you dashed towards the microwave, however, it was too late- a glass jar slammed over you so fast and so hard you were surprised it didn’t shatter on impact.

The bean stared at you with wide brown eyes as she tried to understand what she was seeing. The tv was still playing in the other room, a poorly timed laugh track filtered into the kitchen.

“You’re not a mouse,” she whispered, probably more to herself than to you. It didn’t matter. You were done for.