The little house was a comfortable one. It sat on a vast property of about ten acres. There was a little shack and a chicken run. There was a kitchen and an orchard.
The full moon cast an eerie pale blue light into the room through a window and onto the bed on which George slept.
Abruptly, George sat upright on his bead, sweating and gasping. He leaned over and began rummaging through a nightstand sitting beside his bed, looking for his pistol. After a moment passed, he pulled out his pistol. A moment later, he breathed a breath of relief, wiping the sweat off of his forehead.
It had just been a dream. A gunshot in his nightmare had brought him back to consciousness. He then recalled what he'd dreamt about.
It had been about that dreadful afternoon, ten years ago to the day. He remembered it in more detail than his dream presented. By the deep green pool of the Salinas River, he had ended the life of his poor companion Lennie.
For the past decade, George had been doing his best to convince himself he'd made the right decision. But no matter how hard he tried, he knew it had been the worst he'd ever made.
"George?" The voice startled George. He turned and saw his wife, sitting up. She was staring with wide eyes. "The hell you doin' wit' that thing?"
At first George looked puzzled, then looked down at his hand and saw the pistol. "Oh," George said. "Just had a nightmare."
She nodded slowly, an eyebrow raised. "Well, do me a favor and put the thing away, won't ya?"
George obeyed and gently placed the gun back where he'd found it and closed the drawer.
"What was your dream 'bout?" she asked after he sat back down.
George let out a long, miserable sigh. "It was 'bout Lennie," he said in a shaky voice.
She remembered what he'd told her about Lennie. She looked into his eyes and said "I'm so sorry George." She paused for a moment and looked down, thinking of the right thing to say. "Ain't nothin' you can do 'bout it now."
There was an unnerving silence.
"Try to go back to sleep," she suggested.
George slowly shook his head. "I'd rather go for some fresh air." George kissed her and said. "See ya in the mornin'." He stood up and walked towards the door. "Sweet dreams."
George walked gloomily through the yard, rain falling lightly from the heavens. Transparent clouds drifted swiftly through the sky, not quite weakening the full moon's luminosity.
He came to a stop by a stone. He stared sorrowfully at the crudely engraved text; it said "R.I.P. Charles "Candy" Mitchell. 1860-1935." Candy had passed away three years after they'd left the ranch. He'd made a vital contribution to the paying for the land.
Minutes later, George stopped by the rabbit's hutches. He walked over to one cage and took out a conscious rabbit. It was the one he'd named after Lennie. He stroked the rabbit's soft fur. He heard a joyful noise, and turned quickly to see Lennie beside him.
"Le'me hold 'im." He was smiling at the rabbit George held. "C'mon, George, le'me hold 'im!"
George looked down at the rabbit and slowly handed it to Lennie. He dropped it lightly above Lennie's hands, but it fell through the massive bear hands, and it hit the ground with a terrified noise.
Lennie looked at his hands, obviously upset about his failure to catch the rabbit. He reached down and tried to pick it up again, but his hands went through the alarmed rabbit.
He looked back up at George; then said with tear-filled eyes and quivering lips "why'd ya shoot me, George. Why?"
George reached down to pick up the rabbit, and by the time he looked back up again, Lennie had already returned to George's head.
George looked down at the rabbit. It had been panicking, but it calmed down once George had began petting it.
A tear fell down from George's eye and onto the bunny's fur. He looked up at the sky and said, "I'm so sorry, Lennie. I'm so sorry."