If you’re reading this then it means the house belongs to you now. I’m not about to tell you what to do with your own house, but I do hope you will take good care of it. The point of this note though, is to let you know that I had a friend that was very dear to me and as you already know that I have departed, my friend however still lives and that happens to be his home too. I only ask that you let him be. I assure you he will not be in your way and you won’t even see him unless you really want to. Enjoy your new home and have lots of fun adventures in it.

Love Maggy.

In the six weeks that I’ve moved in here I’ve probably read this note 400 times. Each time hoping to find something new, a clue maybe, while also trying to convince myself that if it can’t be seen then it doesn’t exist. I would sometimes think this was just an old dying woman’s pastime gibberish, perhaps she had an imaginary friend, or she was a very silly old lady who wanted to scare the next owner of her house.

At some point I thought I would die from curiosity, but just as granny Maggy had promised; if I really wanted to see him I would, and so I did. The faint whistle like sounds he makes under my bed at night gave him away. I now know that that’s just him snoring.

It’s been two weeks now since we first met, and we didn’t make a really good first impression. As you can imagine, I screeched when I first saw a little mouse with fur as white as snow and a thick long glittery tail glowing under my bed. I later learnt that the glowing happens when he feels threatened. My squealing came to an end when I noticed he was screaming too. It turns out I was as much of a mystery to him as he was to me.

Yes, he screams and talks and the first words he ever spoke to me were “I don’t appreciate you dropping your stinky socks under the bed.” My socks don’t stink by the way.

This moment marks the last time I read the note. It’s already squashed in my right hand. It isn’t of any use to us anymore and we both see it best to keep our relationship and his existence confined inside these brick walls.

We’re sitting on the grass in the front lawn, it’s Autumn yet my grass is as green as grass can be and all the different flower species around the yard are thriving. I throw the note and give him the look. He winks before sprinkling some glitters from his tail unto it and it becomes big, bright Flame Lillies.

He excitedly runs back to me and I pick him up to tell him I have found a perfect name for him. I don’t know what granny Maggy used to call him, but he belongs to me now. I finally put my French lessons to good use and name him Amato, which means beloved little one. He is the essence of love, the love he gives is limitless. He was loved by old Maggy and now he is loved by me, I love him a bit more every day.

Now and for the rest of this lifetime I will sleep soundly at night because his snoring has not only become my lullaby but it also reminds me that I am never alone. Anytime I’m away from home he will find my socks and sleep in them to feel closer to me. I will come back from work every afternoon to be greeted by the smell of newly arranged flowers on my lawn and maybe a fresh new coat of paint. The chimney will always ooze of smoke and the house will always be warm; it will smell like unicorns and rainbows. I have not only inherited this cosy little house, I also inherited love, I inherited Amato.