Squeak
A little mouse peeks its head from a hole in the foyer's wall. Though the mouse has been told not to venture outside, it still edges to the ledge.
Tonight there isn't the normality of people arriving. Instead there are people staying in the foyer, dressed in bright, so very bright colors – like the figure in red that walks by now. They dance and sway, swishing their grand clothes. The mouse longs to join them, but knows he can't being what he is.
The mouse squeaks and then falls silent, continuing to watch what he could never join, dance away.
A/N: Only a couple more - and then updates slow.
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