Sitting in Starbucks. Table by the door. Little mouse runs in. He’s the size of a mint. Probably a baby. He darts for my backpack, so I lift it up, scoot back. Then he dashes down the window line, and the woman to my left literally stands on her chair in terror.
I have an empty cup. The barista traps the little guy against the window with her foot. No pain inflicted, just so he can’t scatter away. I scoop the mouse up, place the cover atop and walk him outside, where I plan on releasing him beneath some hedges. Only the dude doesn’t wanna leave—he’s happily slurping up the remaining mocha from a long-departed beverage.
When I return to the store, I sit down to a hero’s welcome.
They comp my next order.