‍   there is a rat in our room.

‍   we've always had a rat problem, but never in our room. in the kitchen; in the living room; in the backyard, yes. i don't know how it got here, but it did.

‍   i spend most time alone in the room.

‍   i guess i'm not really alone. the rat is 'with' me. it stays out of my way, mostly, but sometimes, if i hold my breath and lower whatever song's blasting off of spotify; i can hear it. it scampers around in the clothes closet. it runs across the floors. i've seen it once or twice.

‍   no one else in my family seems to care it's there.

‍   they know it is, but they haven't done anything about it. usually we'd set up mice traps but having one in the room is always a danger - we walk barefoot and throw our things around. the trap might end up snagging us before it lands the mouse.

‍   they call the rat 'friendly'.

‍   it's 'the friendly'. sometimes, i talk out loud to it, when i'm alone. i tell it about how i'm not ready for mom to leave. i tell it about how i'm scared for college. (i must be going crazy.) i was certain that the moment it would hear my voice; booming, at no one in particular; it would scuttle away.

‍   but, sometimes, if i hold my breath... i like to pretend i can hear it listening.