The cottage door stood open. Whiskerina called out into the empty room. 'You look like you could use a friend,' she said.
A tiny mouse peeked from behind a cracker box. Whiskerina offered her favorite sunbeam spot and a saucer of warm milk. 'We could live together,' she said.
The mouse's ears perked up. He stepped forward into the golden light. Whiskerina purred happily.
Weeks passed. They shared tea at dusk and stories by the fire. The mouse slept in his thimble bed beside Whiskerina's paw.
One afternoon, Whiskerina knocked over a jar of flour. White powder exploded everywhere. The mouse sneezed.
Whiskerina saw a tiny crumb on the counter. Her pupils went wide. The mouse noticed and froze.
Whiskerina's head dipped low. She let out a soft chirrup. The mouse backed toward the window.
'No, wait —' Whiskerina started, but her paws were already moving. The window latch clicked open.
Whiskerina sat alone in the flour-dusted cottage. Her ears drooped. She curled into a tight ball on the cold floor.
Outside, the mouse watched from behind a rose bush. Neither of them moved. The cottage was very quiet.