Thumb: A Six Sentence Story

Dolores trudged up the stairs, pausing on the landing to catch her breath before climbing the rest of the way up and continuing down the dingy hallway to her apartment. She thought she heard a slight rustle as the door swung open, and she quickly flipped on the single, dangling lightbulb; seeing nothing amiss, she closed the door and sagged into the only seat in the room other than the single bed in the corner, a tattered chair with stuffing poking out and a spring that had to be negotiated carefully when sitting, and she kicked off her worn shoes.

"Oh, how I wish life were easier," Dolores sighed as she closed her eyes and laid her head back into the too-soft chair, but no sooner had she begun to relax, bone by bone, when a voice, a tiny voice, but one filled with strength, said, "I can grant you that wish."

Dolores's eyes popped open and searched the room, finally landing on a the figure of a mouse, a very small mouse, not any bigger than her thumb, that clambered onto the arm of her chair, and Dolores rubbed her eyes, fixed them on the mouse, and stuttered, "D-d-did you just say something?"

"I can make your life easier," said the little mouse, reaching out a minuscule paw and clutching her finger with its infinitesimal claws.

"Come with me," said the mouse, and, bewildered, Dolores stood up, the weariness leaving her body as she felt the mouse pulling her, and they flew out a narrow crack in the window and disappeared into the night sky.

Linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge's Blog for Six Sentence Stories with the prompt "thumb"