At the Sweet and Tart Cafe a waitress accidentally stepped on a little white mouse beside our table. The mouse had the most horrible expression on its face. In slow convulsions it tried to will itself back to life— a life insignificant by our standards.


Steven wanted to leave because he couldn’t stomach the idea of mice running around the café. I wanted to leave because I couldn’t stomach the mouse’s expression as it lay there with its last measure of strength trying to will itself back to life, clinging on desperately.


‘The passion of all living things to live,’ I thought.


A waiter walked over with a broom and dust pan and swept the mouse away.

To Occasionally See More Pieces Like This In Your FB Newsfeed  



Donating = Loving

It is a pleasure bringing you writings and other media through FWIW, but the site takes a lot of time to run (curate, write for, illustrate, code, share, etc)— sometimes a hundred plus hours a month— and incurs considerable costs to sustain. Donations from engaged readers like yourself are indispensable for it to continue running and remain Ad Free... If you derive any joy and value here, please consider becoming a Supporting Regular, with a modest recurring Monthly Donation of your choice, between a cup of tea and a dinner. (Note: You don’t actually need a PayPal account; just use any credit or debit card and click through.)

Or you can make a One-time or Recurring donation in Any Amount of your choice:

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Captcha *