The mouse is in the parlour sifting through a pile of vertebra, plucking out gold buttons and pieces of silk. As he finds them he ties the silk in knots, threads the buttons through and counts to one hundred with his eyes closed. A child looks through a window dreaming of the color red as the snow falls in glistening glass-like fragments blowing chaotically in the wind. They press their ear to the wall and listen to the gentle cooing of the pigeon in the rafters with wings as black as soot and plucked thin who sits in a throne made out of molars and bits of twine. He sings a lullaby and is completely indifferent to the drip, drip, drip of melting wax from diminishing beeswax candles in brass holders. A sound that mimics the tears of the child – a lonely room waits patiently for supper.
photo by Ralph (via pixabay) and Merve Sehirli Nasir (via unsplash)