Cookies
The kitchen. Faded-yellow linoleum floor tiles. The middle of the afternoon.
The music on the boxy radio (with its neon-green numbers on the clock-face) was set to easy listening. The kind of mellow orchestral, symphonic sounds one would find on an AM station. A station too high on the dial. So high it would cut out at night. But it was working now.
Field maneuvered, on the tips of foot-paws, around a pulled out chair, moving lightly to the closet. Lowering on foot-paws and opening it ... the folding, wooden doors ... opening the door and peering across the dim, cluttered shelves. He squinted and frowned. Turning his head slightly. Thin tail trailing behind him, into the air. Hanging slightly.
"Darling," he called. Whiskers twitching.
No answer.
Field smiled lightly, biting his lip. "Darling," he called again.
"Yeah?" came the voice.
"I cleaned this closet ... last week ... "
"Yeah," went Welly, the skunk ... still out of the room. Approaching. Stopping in the doorway to the kitchen. Leaning against the frame, covering the entrance. Rrich, black fur ... the white stripe on the silky tail ...
"Well ... I didn't mess it up."
"You're the one who cooks."
"Yeah, but ... this closet," said Field, turning back to it. Squinting. "Is a mess." Pause. "I can't find the pan I use to boil rice ... the one with the long handle ... "
"It's under the sink."
The mouse turned back to the skunk. "Why?"
The skunk shrugged. "I unloaded the dishwasher."
"Ah," said Field. "Ah ... okay."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"No, come on ... what?"
"Well, you unloaded the dishwasher ... and you never seem to remember ... "
"I do, too."
"Where everything belongs," Field finished. "There is a specific place," he said, nodding as he spoke.
The skunk rolled his eyes.
"For every thing ... every item. There is an order ... "
"Field ... "
The mouse turned back to him, whiskers twitching. "Yeah, but ... Welly ... "
"Field ... "
"Welly ... "
"Field," repeated the skunk, smiling.
The mouse shook his head and smiled. "Just stop it ... just put things back," he asked, "Where they're supposed to go."
"If you weren't so exacting ... "
"Exacting?" the mouse asked.
The skunk shrugged. Smiling coyly. "Not that I mind it ... "
"Well ... I'm not entirely sure," said the mouse, squinting, giggling lightly, "What that's supposed to mean. But I'm trying to make cookies, and I wanted ... "
"Cookies?" The skunk perked.
The mouse smiled. Nodded. "Cookies."
Beaming, the skunk fully entered the kitchen, circling the table. "What kind?"
"Well, I need the small silver pot ... that I stir the flour and stuff in. And I need the mixer bowl ... for the electric mixer, and they were ... "
"Under the sink ... also ... "
"You put everything under the sink?" the mouse asked, kneeling down, opening the doors to the low-lying cupboard ... and pulling out the desired pans. And some measuring cups. Putting them up on the counter. Closing the doors, standing ... and sighing a bit, looking about. And then looking to the skunk. A smile melting upon him. Whiskers twitch-twitching. "Wanna help?"
"Make cookies?"
Field nodded.
"Well ... you make them better ... "
"Well ... "
"Remember when I tried to make those ... oatmeal things ... and I put twelve cookies on the pan, and when I took them out of the oven ten minutes later ... "
"They were," began Field, laughing, leaning against the counter. "They turned into one cookie. Like a blob."
The skunk giggled. "It wasn't my fault."
"It almost ate me ... I think it was alive ... "
"Mutant cookies," said the skunk, giggling.
Field smiled, nodded, and sighed, looking around. The music still playing on the radio. Warm, flowing ... if it could be a color, it would be a lemon yellow. Sugared.
"You know," the mouse said, voice quiet ... delicate.
The skunk looked to him. Blinked.
"We've never ... "
"Yeah?"
"Danced. We've never ... danced." The mouse shrugged shyly. "Just ... I'd like to ... sometime. You know?"
The skunk beamed. Nodded. "Okay."
"But, uh," continued the mouse. "Not now, cause ... I gotta make the cookies. And I have to work tonight."
"I wish you didn't have to work nights," Welly said, positioning himself behind the mouse. Wrapping arms and paws around him.
"Well ... I wish you didn't have to work mornings." The mouse twitched, voice getting quiet. "I don't like waking up alone."
"I know, baby," Welly whispered, closing his eyes. Hugging the mouse.
Field closed his eyes as well, leaning back against the skunk's chest. Sighing. Twitching. Flooded, for a moment, with an intense wave of anxiety ... making him almost nauseous. "You ever think," he whispered, "That ... you know, what it would be like to just ... run off. Run away. Somewhere. Some frontier."
"There aren't any frontiers left."
"Still ... I mean, I know reality wouldn't ... be as ... but in dreams ... " He twitched. "Forget I mentioned it."
"No, that's okay ... but we're here. Together."
"But it's like ... I don't know. Just the allure of being far away ... "
"No, I know what you mean ... "
"Just ... " The mouse shrugged. "Away from menial work. Away from society. Just us. In some natural place. I don't know ... "
The skunk hugged the mouse and sighed.
The mouse breathed. Blink-blinked. "I gotta ... get started on these cookies."
"Okay ... "
The mouse stayed in the skunk's embrace ... and then slipped out, padding to the cupboard over the sink (and over the toaster). Removing the flour, baking soda, salt ... vanilla ... and he paused. Frowned. "Last time I made cookies ... " He turned his head to the skunk. "I didn't add vanilla to the dough ... I didn't put vanilla in the cookies."
"They tasted fine to me."
"Yeah ... to me, too. But ... so ... what's the vanilla do to the cookies? If you don't know it's missing, what's the point of it being in there in the first place?"
"Don't know ... "
The mouse twitched, twitched. "Well ... " He held the bottle of vanilla, turning it upside down, the lid still on, sloshing it about. Turning it right side up. Removing the cap. Putting his nose above the bottle and sniffing slowly. "Oh," he breathed. "I love vanilla." He smiled shyly. And nodded. "I'll use it."
The skunk smiled, watching the mouse. Just watching.
Field let out a breath and grabbed the measuring cup ... measured out the flour ... poured it into a pan. Grabbed the teaspoon ... measured out the baking soda, the salt ... and then ...
"What do you need?"
"Butter. Two sticks. Softened."
"How long is ... "
"About 33 seconds in the microwave," the mouse supplied. "And eggs. I need two eggs."
The skunk nodded. Fetching the butter and eggs from the refrigerator. Unwrapping the sticks of butter ... putting them in a larger measuring cup ... softening them in the microwave. While the mouse measured out the sugar and brown sugar ... three-fourths cups of each.
"I wonder," said Field. "Who first came up with the idea of making these cookies ... just ... how do you stumble across a recipe like that? Who was the first to make a cookie?"
"Never thought about it."
The mouse shrugged. And Welly retrieved the softened butter from the microwave ... which Field dumped into the mixer bowl. Pouring the sugar slowly over it. So that the butter couldn't be seen. And them spreading, gingerly, the brown sugar ... to cover up the regular sugar.
Welly watched. Asking, "Why not just pour it into the bowl ... dump it in ... why be so deliberate?"
"Cookies are delicate. The ingredients must be mixed," Field assured, "Delicately."
The skunk nodded.
The mouse used the electric mixer to stir all the ingredients ... pouring in the two cups of semi-sweet chocolate chips ... last. Sprinkling them in with his paws. And then carrying the dough-filled bowl ... to the oven. Paws bringing out blobs of the dough ... putting them on the pan. Setting the oven for thirteen minutes. And putting the pan in. The oven at 350 degrees.
And, the cookies ... cooking ... the mouse sighed and looked around. And found the skunk staring at him.
"What?" the mouse asked quietly, self-conscious. Suddenly shy.
"Nothing ... you're just ... lovely," said the skunk. "So very lovely."
The mouse's ears flushed. Blushed. Hot. "Oh ... well ... so are you. Lovely, I mean."
"Thirteen minutes ... "
"Huh?"
"Until you have to take the cookies out ... and put a new pan in."
"Yeah." Field nodded.
The skunk bit his lip. Blushing. Which was hard to notice ... with his fur ... but Field's sniffing, twitching nose ... could pick up his heat ...
"What?" the mouse asked.
"By the time you get home from work, it'll be late ... and I have to get up early ... we'll probably miss each other. I'll already be asleep."
"I feel like we always miss each other," the mouse lamented.
"Anyway, I was just ... thirteen minutes ... "
The mouse tilted his head, squinting.
"Um ... "
"Yes," the mouse whispered. Ears blushing. Whiskers twitching. Paws unbuttoning his shirt ... letting it slip off.
"See," the skunk said, nodding. "You're exacting."
The mouse blushed, working on the skunk's clothing. Fumbling. "Well ... "
"You know what you want," whispered the skunk, nibbling on one of the mouse's large ears. "And you go for it."
"Hey," the mouse whispered, blushing. "You suggested this ... "
"You don't have to ... "
"I want to," the mouse whispered, blushing harder. Swallowing. Both of them now bare, in the fur ... and the mouse's paws feeling about the skunk's silky chest. Tracing over his black and white fur. Stepping forward. Nose nestling to his chest. Sniffing. Eyes closing. And paws and arms wrapping around the skunk's strong form. The mouse smaller, thinner. More delicate.
Welly tilted his head down. Nosed the top of the mouse's head. Kissed it.
Field blushed and kissed Welly's neck. Again. Again. Soft, shy kisses, all over, and to his lips ... kissing his lips, arms wrapped around the skunk, standing on tips of foot-paws ... and quietly grinding, bumping his hips to the skunk's ...
Twelve minutes ...
Welly hugged the mouse, pawing at his slim, furry hips, and then running paws round to his rump. Squeezing.
The mouse nodded, knowing what to do ... as the skunk maneuvered him around, back to the refrigerator ... so the mouse's back was to the fridge. And the mouse swallowed, nodded, and leapt up, swinging legs around ... around the skunk's waist. Hoisted up, pinned to the fridge ... suddenly and swiftly ... magnets and pictures falling and clattering, fluttering to the linoleum floor ... the sound of scuffing foot-paw pads ... the sound of panting ... and the squeaks of the mouse.
The skunk murred. Kissed.
The mouse tilted his head, taking it. Eyes fluttering to a close. "Mm ... "
Eleven minutes ...
The kiss was broken. Welly breathed deep, putting his nose to the mouse's. Field's nose twitched, twitched, sniffed ... non-stop.
"What's wrong?" the skunk whispered. The mouse still pinned. Held firmly.
"Nothing," Field whispered.
"You're twitching."
"I always twitch. You know that."
"Yeah, but ... " The skunk sighed, kissing the mouse's cheek. Sighing. "I worry about you ... "
"I'll be okay," Field whispered.
"You shouldn't bury your fears, darling. You shouldn't ... bury your anxiety. Give it to me. I'll help you."
The mouse blushed. Eyes darting. And he bit his lip, furry chest rising, falling against the skunk's. "I know," he whispered, eyes settling back on the skunk's. "But ... you shouldn't have to bear my burdens." Twitch-twitch. "They're mine ... "
"I don't mind ... "
"I do," the mouse whispered, kissing the skunk's cheek. Sighing. Sighing again. "I don't like to burden others ... and not you. I don't want to be your burden."
"You are never," Welly assured, putting forehead to the mouse's. "Never ... a burden. You got that?"
The mouse nodded weakly.
"Never," the skunk repeated.
"I feel like one," the mouse said, barely audible.
"Baby," the skunk whispered. "You are a light ... to me ... "
The mouse blushed severely.
"I don't mean to sound sappy," Welly said.
"No, it's ... " The mouse blushed, flushed. Twitched. "It's okay ... " Pause. A sigh. "I wish I didn't have to go to work ... the way they look at me ... " He twitched. "I'm so quiet," Field whispered. "They kid me about it. Ask me how come I'm so quiet. They try and prod me into ... talking. I just want to be left alone ... so many ... creatures, so many ... eyes." He shivered and swallowed, closing his eyes. "I try and play mind games with myself ... to pass the time, to get through it ... and only ever wanting," he said, "To come home ... to come back to you ... " Pause. Twitch-twitch. "I wish I wasn't working ... just for the money, just ... because I have to. I wish ... there was more," the mouse whispered. "I wish it meant more. I wish ... I didn't feel so ... like a remainder. Like a mouse through the cracks. Like a leftover." Pause. And a shaky sigh. "I don't know ... I'm sorry."
"Don't be," the skunk whispered, caressing the mouse's cheek. Voice soft. Gentle. "Don't be ... "
"They all ask me ... about school. It's always a default conversation. First thing I'm asked about. I lie to them," Field whispered, hugging the skunk tighter. Still pinned. Breathing, breathing. "I try and evade the question ... try to give a non-answer."
"You shouldn't be ashamed ... they're no better than you."
"I know, but ... everyone ... everyone's defined by their schooling. By their job. No one cares," the mouse continued, eyes drifting, darting. "No one cares about your hopes and fears. Your dreams and loves ... your ... self. They only care about what you do and what you know. Like you're a commodity. Like you're a material good. Not that I would tell them my hopes and fears ... if they asked ... but ... the point is, they never would ... it's just ... superficial." Pause. "But you care ... " The mouse twitched, sighed, squeaked. "You're the only one that does."
"Because I love you," Welly told him. Assured. Confident. "I love you."
The mouse's ears flushed hot. "And I," the mouse returned, "love you ... " Pause. Twitch-twitch. A random squeak.
Pause.
The skunk frowned. Concerned. "I worry about you, Field ... especially when you're not here ... I want to protect you," Welly whispered. "I want you always in my sight." A sigh. "I wish you didn't. I wish you wouldn't let things bother you ... overwhelm you ... like you do. I wish I didn't worry about you ... every time you go out the door. I wish you had confidence. You're bright, you're warm. You should be overflowing with confidence. With boldness. With a belief in yourself ... a radiance. You should glow with it ... but .. " The skunk stopped, sniffled, closed his eyes. Opened them. "But you use up all your energy wrestling with your greater demons ... and I just want to know that ... you'll defeat them. And you'll heal. You'll blossom. Tell me," Welly pleaded, "that you will ... please ... "
The mouse blushed. Avoided the answer. Not wanting to make promises he knew he couldn't keep. Only said, stuttering, "The cookies ... um ... if we're not done in time, they may ... "
"There are at least two more batches from the dough in that bowl," the skunk breathed. "We can still do it ... "
"Or we can always just let these cookies burn," the mouse said, nodding at the oven.
"There are two things, Field, you don't burn ... cookies and popcorn."
"You're never going to let me forget that, are you," Field said, blushing, giggling ... flushing.
"Well, it takes a lot of effort ... to vaporize microwave popcorn to a toxic fume ... "
The mouse leaned his head forward. Lips touching. Kissing. And pulling back, sighing. Stringing a bit of saliva. "Well ... " He shrugged weakly. Smiling, dimples showing on cheeks. A shy, pained smile. Somewhat removed. Slightly aloof. But more sweet and innocent than anything the skunk had ever known.
Welly blinked his watery eyes, kissing the mouse. A passionate, wet kiss ... a lingering kiss ... a kiss that almost hurt to break.
The mouse blinked, a tear or two ... seeping out. Though his face remained composed ... as composed as the mouse could make it. Having such practice ... in keeping a straight face. "Why," he asked, wanting so desperately to break down and weep, to cry into the fur of his love. But not letting himself. "Why are you so nice to me? Why aren't you fed up with me? Why haven't you been driven away by me weaknesses? Why do you love me?"
"Because you love me. And because you are gentle. And you are kind ... and because I'm just as insane as you are."
The mouse giggled, sniffing, nodding. "You are," he agreed ... nodding. Sighing shakily.
"I don't need a logical reason, darling," the skunk whispered. "It just ... is."
The mouse nodded. Ears going swivel-swivel. The radio was still on ... and he'd hardly realized it ... the music had become so much a part of the background of the moment ... and his nose sniff-sniffed. The smell of baking cookies.
"We're not gonna ... get to it, are we?" Welly asked, blushing.
The mouse's blush was more apparent. His eyes darted to the clock. "If we were on Daylight Savings Time right now," the mouse said wryly, "our fur would be matted with sweat ... our squeaks would echo off these walls ... the cookies would be done, and we would sip from the same glass of cold milk and watch an old black and white movie in bed ... and I wouldn't have to leave for work for another two hours ... or so I've been told. I hear you actually get younger ... when you turn back the clock."
The skunk smiled, laughing lightly. And slowly slid the mouse down. Field's legs unwrapping, foot-paws going to the floor. Both of them still near each other. Still holding.
Pause.
And Field ... hesitated ... and ...
"A quickie?" breathed the skunk.
"Please," insisted the mouse.
"Oh, Field," breathed Welly ... and opened his arms. Into which the mouse leapt back into.
Field tilted his head. Eyes closed ... and panted ... as their lips brushed. Brushed. Met ... and kissed. It was a brief kiss. A dying kiss ... for their lips were already moving away ... to kiss each other's cheeks. To suck on fur ... and then, somehow, like magnets, their lips came back together. Messily. Wet and panting, they sucked and panted ... and the mouse breathed onto Welly's cheek. Panted, panted ... the hot breath heating the fur on the skunk's cheek.
The groping and panting ... and the already-in-place horniness, for lack of a better term ... of the day ... already had the two furs erect.
And Welly wasted no time ... in putting the head of his cock to the mouse's tail-hole. Pressing.
"Go," breathed the mouse.
"No ... foreplay ... " A giggle. "A shame, darling ... "
"Just the yiff this time ... "
"Just yiff?" A giggle. Hips pushing forward.
"Uhn ... oh ... yes, just ... "
The skunk pulled back. Having the mouse, again, pinned to the fridge ... and trying to hammer into him ... while standing up. While the mouse wrapped his limbs around him. "I'd rather ... do this sitting ... down," panted the skunk.
"Uhhhn ... oh, no, no ... no, you're doing ... " The mouse's head lolled to the side. Mouth open. "Ohh ... " A giggle. A blush. "You're doing fine."
A chuckle. Pulling back ... and pushing in.
"Mm," sighed Field, closing his eyes and simply clinging to his love. Arms around his neck. And smelling the air. Of cookies. Of skunk. And ... imagining ... well, it was all so fresh. He didn't even need to imagine it. Despite the fact that they were getting sweaty, and that ... Welly was pounding away at his rump ... and that he was squeaking in a way no civil mouse would ... despite all that, it seemed ... well, it seemed perfectly fresh.
Welly couldn't take the standing up any longer. And he sank with Field to the kitchen floor. And put the mouse on his bare back ... and lay atop of him. And nodded, nodded, getting a better purchase with his foot-paws ... and humping with a better rhythm.
"Mm ... mmm ... "
Welly pulled back. Slowly. Almost teasingly slow. So that the mouse's tail-hole clenched. Clenched. And so that Field felt it ... and so that he moaned.
And the skunk, panting, tail flickering ... shoved back in.
Field grunted.
The skunk descended into a faster, faster motion. A faster movement of his hips. A faster sucking of their lips ...
The mouse writhed and moaned beneath the weight and warmth of his lover. His thin mouse tail side-winding on the floor.
"Uh ... oh ... "
"Ohh ... oh, I think," said Field, his voice airy and breathy ... " ... ohhh ... oh, I think," he moaned, "that timer on the ... the ov-oven ... must be broken. I'm ... I'm sure it's been ... time's ... up ... "
"Who cares ... F-field ... honestly? Huh ... huhhnn ... hmm?"
"Oh, I don't ... " A deflating breath. Like air out of a balloon. "Who knows," was all he could say.
The skunk drilled him. Relentlessly, but lovingly ... knowing the mouse's limits. Knowing his body as much (or nearly so) as he knew his own.
"We're ... not ... not having ... "
"Hmm ... mm," groaned the skunk. In. Out. The motion smooth from pre.
"We're not," managed Field, "having sex on the kitchen floor ... oh ... um ... uhm ... not ... again. It's ... too hard."
"Mm ... well, we've never done it ... oh ... here ... before ... "
"No ... "
"Well, it's ... a new experience ... "
"Whatever," breathed Field, smiling. Feeling so silly. And saying as much. "Oh," he panted. "Oh, I feel so ... silly ... "
"You're about to feel," said the skunk, feeling equally silly, "much sillier ... " Pound, pound ... hump, hump.
"Mmmm," went the mouse. Paws clenching at fur. At air, even. Just ... opening, closing. And eyes closing. Too watery and weak to maintain eye contact with the world. Hiding behind the shield of the mouse's eyelids.
The skunk grew erratic. And faltered. And went limp ... and panted. "Ohhhhhh," he went, purring ... as he unloaded. Shot his seed ... into the mouse's rump. Where it was so wanted. So needed ... so felt the mouse.
Field rubbed up and down Welly's bare, furry back ... rubbed up and down the skunk atop him ... as the skunk shivered and sighed. In some sort of ecstasy. Into which the mouse was soon thrust into, as well ...
Field feeling the growing, growing warmth. The tickle on his spine, and he allowed his head to fall aside, gaping ... drooling a bit (though he hardly cared), and feeling his orgasm. Just ... punch him. "Uhnn! Ohhh," he moaned ... turning his head the other way ... and then back to where it was. Shivering. Such a heated shiver. And yet so cool ... so helpless. And he spilled his own seed to the skunk's belly. "Mm," he moaned. "Mm ... mm," he went, and he panted, sighed deeply. And blinked. Blinked. Tail-hole clenching fiercely. Milking.
The skunk chittered at this.
Field heaved. And went quiet.
They lay on the kitchen floor ... for a minute more. The mouse blushing.
"You'll ... finish the cookies for me?" Field finally said, breaking the silence. Panting. The skunk was still inside him. Still on top of him. Field couldn't move.
"Sure."
"Will you ... " The mouse blushed. "I know you need to get up early, and I know I won't get back until late, but ... "
"I'll stay up for you," the skunk promised. "So we can have another go ... in a bed, this time."
The mouse blushed. "I'm not trying to be a slut ... if you need your sleep, don't wait up for ... "
"I want to, Field. I'll be up when you come home. We'll be together ... and we'll sleep after we've loved."
The mouse blushed. But smiled. Ears hot. Swivelling. "Um ... the magnets," Field said, "And the pictures ... "
"I'll pick them up."
"No, I can ... "
"You're such a tidy mouse," the skunk teased. "I'll do it. Go get ready for work."
"The cookies ... "
"I'll take them out at the buzzer."
The mouse nodded. Hesitating. "You don't ... I mean, earlier, when I was teasing you about the closet ... I'm not mad at you or anything. I just ... I want our place to be nice. I want ... I just want it to be clean and perfect. I'm not mad at you."
"I didn't think you were," Welly assured, squeezing the mouse's paw.
Field blushed, nodded. "Okay," he said, and then let out a deep breath. "Well ... off to work I go, huh?"
The skunk nodded. And withdrew from the mouse's body.
"Into the fire," Field whispered, eyes glazed over, darting. Sitting. Sighing. "Wish I didn't have work tonight. Wish tonight was my night off ... " He felt at the skunk's fur.
"I wish I could ... put your fires out," the skunk said, feeling lame for saying it. Shrugging. They were sitting together now.
"I gotta believe ... that all the pain, all the ... I gotta believe it helps me grow, that it's ... that there's a reason for it. That it's part of God's purpose. Otherwise, it's ... just simple pain. Simple fear. If none of this struggle ... if there's no growth or revelation at the end of it, after however many years of it ... I don't ... " The mouse paused, swallowed. "I'll be okay ... I know there's a plan, a design ... that my future's been written."
"Has it?" Welly posed. "You write your own future, Field. We all do."
"I hope not," was all the mouse said. Voice momentarily dull. And he opened his mouth to say more ... but stopped. Closed his mouth. Swallowed. "I'll see you later ... " He shakily stood (still weak from his orgasm, from their love-making), and turned to go to the bedroom, to quickly shower, to dress, and then to drive off to work. And then paused, returning to the skunk. Giving him a haphazard kiss. Off-balance. Wet. Almost delirious.
The mouse hugged the skunk. Eyes darting to the timer on the clock. It was below a minute. And the mouse said, replying to the skunk's earlier statement, "You're a fire ... that I'm happy to warm myself by."
"I'm that hot, huh?"
The mouse giggled, hugging, holding. Lingering. Wanting to linger ... forever and a day. "That hot," he whispered back. "You know," he confided. "I've got shadows snapping at my tail. They say I'm no damn good."
"That's not even halfway true."
"I just think it's fair you knew," Field told the skunk, looking into his eyes. Maintaining the eye contact, though it went against the mouse's nature ... to do so. "All that I'm good for is you ... "
The skunk sniffled. Beamed. "Darling, if we keep this going ... we're both gonna melt ... "
"I feel I could," the mouse said, nodding. "But your love is straight and narrow ... and it's keeping me in line. So, I think I'll ... I'll be okay," he promised.
The skunk smiled, nodded. "That means a lot ... hearing you say that."
"About your love," the mouse asked, "Or that I'll be okay ... "
"Both."
The mouse blushed, smiled shyly ... and moved away, letting out a deep breath. Letting this world go ... restless heart ... idle ... twitching as he went to the bedroom ...
They skunk watched him leave the kitchen. Blinked. Sighed. And looked to the oven.
The buzzer went off.
The cookies were done. Finally.