Acropolis Cats Chapter 7

in which Stephano employs his natural gifts to transact an arrangement with sailors and mice

A mouse stuck his sharp little face out just a sliver from the sheltering shadow of a stack of cardboard boxes and surveyed with one eye the interior of the shipping container he had called home for the past few weeks. Having confined himself to the area immediately behind these boxes, where he’d nibbled away a small hole through which he could access cereal and dried fruit, since the container first set sail from Athens; he had just this morning experienced the same feeling in reverse, and now perceived himself to be on dry land. When nothing remarkable happened for a few hours, he thought it was a good time to venture forth and see what surprises the day had in store.

It was very very loud outside the container, but inside was only a dim stillness. The mouse wasn’t hungry, nor was he cold, and therefore he began to feel a restlessness which drove him to explore among the boxes and pallets, the sameness of each street in this dusty cityscape. He felt entirely alone.

“Welcome to Milan,” said Don Stephano, flashing his eyes from his low perch on a discarded pallet jack.

The mouse was frozen in his tracks, his heart racing. A cat.