it lays still as the hand reaches
"I could pet it with my thumb"
the mouse is dead
The soft fur of brown and white
sways through the big fingers
it hides under a pile of hay
it waits for it's owner to throw
"I'll throw him away...
It's bad enough like it is"
The tart lays next to the puppy
the soft hair, now messy and tangled
killed for screaming but an accident
Lennie means no harm
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