"A CHANCE ENCOUNTER BETWEEN SHIFTS"

The other helper mice had since retired from their shifts, leaving only Cobbler the shoe mouse to pick up scraps left over from the night's supper.  It was a far cry from his official role of fixing shoes, but Cobb (as he was better known by the house) was only too happy to oblige.

In truth, there wasn't much actual cleaning left to be done.  Mrs. Motley was a prudent chef, cooking only as much dinner as would be consumed in one setting by the family of three, and the boys hadn't made a mess of their plates since they were little.  A mere ten minutes in and the kitchen and dining room were as clean as they had ever been.

Which, Cobb thought, given the circumstances, was unfortunate.  He had so been looking forward to speaking with that new night watchman again.  The one with the lopsided smile.  

Cobb's fur bristled.  

The one with the pleasant laugh.    

Cobb had stayed up late several nights in a row hoping to "accidentally" run into the nice young man that he had met in the parlor a few weeks prior.  He would busy himself with tasks that could have easily waited until morning, just to see if he couldn't bump into him on his way to bed.  

The shoe mouse dusted off his lapel, surveying the sparkling kitchen floor with disdain.  "That didn't take nearly long enough," Cobb muttered.  "He'll scarcely be getting up by now."  

But there was nothing to be done about it.  If he was to wake up promptly at 5am, he would have to turn in soon.  With a sigh, the shoe mouse snuffed out the kerosene lamp on the table, jumping onto the seat of the old wicker dining chair and sliding down the back of its leg onto the floor below.

Outside the kitchen, the hallway leading to the spiral staircase was almost dark.

Almost.  Except for a thin, eerie flicker of light dancing just beyond the parlor's threshold.  

Cobb's breath hitched.  He's up early! he thought to himself, beady eyes widening with glee.

Cobb was careful to mind the squeaking floorboards as he slowly crept down the hall, stopping just short of the door to adjust his uniform and give his sleeves a final dusting.  Casually and nonchalantly, he strode by.     

"My my," called a voice from within.   "You're up late."

"And. . . you're up early."  Cobb responded, cheeks reddening beneath his starched white fur.

The little gray mouse on the writing desk chuckled, drawing the back of his paw along the cloistered font of the morning news.  He was lying on his belly across the newspaper with his legs kicked up in the air behind him, moving them back and forth slowly.   

Cobb cleared his throat.  "Catching up on current events?"

The red of the sentry's blindfold showed in the dim glow of the candle across the room, contrasting with his silvery fur.  He had large, wonderfully characteristic ears and an intelligent-looking nose.

The watchman propped his chin up in his hands.  "Just waiting."

"Waiting?"  Cobb shifted uncomfortably.  "For what?"

The gray mouse rolled off the desk, landing nimbly on the carpet with a grunt.  He stood, leveraging the palms of his paws against the small of his back, giving his vertebrae a loud pop.  

"To see if I could catch you before you turned in."  The watchman smiled.

Though of a much shorter stature, the little gray mouse had an impressive physique, toned from a short but rigorous life of keeping vigil.  When he had first arrived at the house, Cobb and all the other mice had been amazed to find that, despite being completely blind in both eyes, the young sentry was capable of acrobatics that would have put most of the neighborhood squirrels to shame.

Now, standing before him at long last, closer than he had ever even hoped to get, Cobb couldn't think of what to say. 

He blinked stupidly.  He waited?  He got up early?  For me?

Just as Cobb's tiny brain began to scrounge for something to talk about, the young sentry spoke.  "Are you usually this early turning in?  But the night's so young!  Not to denigrate the importance of your station of course," he said with a deep bow.   "I just always assumed shoes were either fixed enough to be worn in the morning, or too broken to bother with until evening."  

Cobb somehow managed to rouse himself from the young man's handsomeness.  

"Oh.  Well... yes,"  he stammered, working his paws together in front of him.  "Had I known you were waiting for me, I certainly wouldn't have been mucking around in the kitchen for so long.  There was rubbish left over from dinner, you see.  Just a bit though.  And, I suppose you're right.  I don't suppose it's a terribly important job, fixing shoes.  I suppose I'm just bored."  He scratched the back of his neck, just above the starched collar.  "I suppose I try to busy myself with the other housework so as to keep myself occupied."

During the shoe mouse's nervous rambling, the corner of the sentry's mouth had curled up in a lopsided smile.  He has dimples, Cobb observed with great interest.

"Had I known you were bored, I would have asked you out on patrol.  It gets frightfully lonely."

"I... oh, well..." Cobb swallowed dryly.  "I..."

The smaller mouse held his hands up.  "But, I'm keeping you.  I just wanted to say goodnight before you turned in."

"Oh,"  Cobb cleared his throat.  "Well... of course.  I do need to be turning in, I suppose."  

He returned the sentry's earlier bow, bending formally at the waist.  "Goodnight sir."

As Cobb made to execute an about-face, his paw was snatched from his side, nearly throwing him off balance.  He watched on in wide-eyed amazement as the younger mouse turned his hand over, sliding his fingers softly against Cobb's palm.  

The shiver that trembled Cobb's frame couldn't have gone unnoticed.  Goosepimples erupted across the back of his paw, brushing against the gray mouse's.  The sentry was working his fingers gently along Cobb's; first on one, than another, mystically tapping the tips of each before returning to the center of his palm with a gentle squeeze.

"You have soft hands."

Cobb's mouth moved without actually forming words.  He was quite sure that the young mouse could hear his heart fluttering against his ribcage.  Cobb certainly could.  

"I was reading your fortune just now," the sentry said.  "Want to know what it says?"

Cobb's mouth clamped shut.  He blinked, nodding solemnly.

The little gray mouse smiled, the other corner of his mouth rising handsomely to join it's twin.

"Well...," he said with a chuckle, gently curling Cobb's hand in on itself.  He drew closer.  "Maybe that will be what we talk about tomorrow night."

Their whiskers were brushing slightly.  The smaller mouse rose on his tiptoes.  

And in one quick instant, it happened.  

Like a flash of lightning it came, and in the very next moment was gone.  It may well have been lightning, for all Cobb knew.  His ears rung.  He saw only a bright whiteness, and every inch of him felt as if it had been struck by a sky full of electricity.  

"Off to bed with you," the watchmen said with a chuckle, turning Cobb, mute and wide-eyed, by his shoulder.  "You have to get up early in the morning, and I have to start my patrol!"

He was given a gentle push toward the doorway.  Cobb's legs moved mechanically on their own, without their master willing them forward.  

At the threshold, Cobb turned.  He wanted desperately to say something, but his lips received no signal from the mouse's static-filled brain.  He felt an urge to make eye contact with the two beveled points beneath the sentry's blindfold.  Feeling that rude, he tried to look off to the side.  Feeling that rude, he settled on looking at the floor, blushing at it intently.  

After a long silence, he pushed out the first thing he could think of.

"I... was waiting for you too."

His own words surprised him, but the little gray mouse appeared unfazed. "I know you were," he said, with that broad, heartwarming smile of his - a smile Cobb was quickly coming to adore.  "And I'll be here tomorrow night.  Just in case you should find more chores that can't wait 'til morning."   

They stood regarding one another for what seemed like ages.  Cobb didn't want to turn and leave.  He didn't want to get up at the crack of dawn.  He wanted to stay up, to go on patrol, to hear his fortune, to. . .

And just like that, he was there.  Sylphying through the dew-stained garden with this strange young mouse who had moved in only a few short weeks ago.  Their paws flashed to the hilt of their needles at the first sign of trouble.  Elbow-crawling beneath the hedges, leaping over stones, ducking into long-discarded burrows at the sound of snapping twigs or crooning birds.

After an eventful night of adventuring, they'd stop on the roof to watch the sun rise over the farmlands.  They'd share an apple that had fallen prematurely from Mrs. Motley's new sapling, and as the sun rose to warm their fur, they'd huddle together for warmth in the recess of the gutter.  The young sentry would turn to Cobb with that lopsided smile of his, and Cobb's hands would slide over the boy's hips, drawing him in close, and then Cobb would --

"Do you need anything before I go?"  croaked Cobb mechanically.

"I think I'm fine, thanks."

"Very good.  I'll be leaving now."

The sentry grinned.  "Alright."

"Heading off to bed."

"As well you should."

"Goodnight then?"

"Goodnight."

"Alright."

"Alright."

Cobb narrowly avoided smashing his nose against the doorframe as he turned to go.  

The sentry listened, ears twitching, as the older mouse took the stairs with clumsy, uncertain feet. 

The sentry chuckled.  Long after the shoe mouse's footsteps had disappeared beyond the settling creaks and groans of the upper storey, he could still make out Cobb's thundering heartbeat as the older mouse lie awake in his bed, staring wide-eyed at the darkness settling in all around him.