Don't fall for the peanut butter.

We hear a loud snap
in the next room
followed by the sound
of wood and hardware
bouncing off the floor.

I stop what I'm doing.
She stops what she's doing.

"There goes the mouse trap,"
I say from beneath the sheets.

"Go make sure it's dead,"
she replies, her breath catching up with her.

"No. I don't want to. It'll make me sad."

I go back to what I was doing.
She goes back to what she was doing.

Five minutes later her thighs deafen me.
We've won again.

In the morning I go into the bathroom
to take a leak
and find the mouse belly-up
its head hidden under the trap.
I'm thankful not to see its face.

It was a good night
for some of us.

The rest broke even.