Nathan's new mouse body doesn't give him a single second of peace.
His little heart races a mile a minute, even when he's ostensibly at rest inside the deep pocket of his friend. Of course, Brett's quite unaware that the wee mouse with the rapidly palpitating heart is actually his friend Nathan.
Wiry whiskers by the side of his wee snout twitch almost spastically. His beady eyes dart to and fro, but there's not much to see in Brett's lint-lined pocket.
Nathan has little warning once Brett returns to his own home. His first clue is when he's pulled from his friend's pocket and placed in a glass cage. A former fish tank, actually, that's stood empty, until now. Even without the discovery his own friend has made him a prisoner, Nathan feels a chill. As one of the smaller animals, he has a greater surface area to volume ratio, so more heat is lost more rapidly. He's already shivering just second after being removed from the warm cocoon of Brett's pocket.
He began squeaking incessantly as he gazed through a glass pane that distorted his friend's massive face as Brett peered inside the tank.
"What's the big idea? Get me out of here! It's me! Nathan! I'm not a mouse!"
Brett listened to the mouse make all those squeaks and thought he looked cute. "You just stay there for now," Brett said. "I'll make sure you're more comfortable later."
With that, Brett left the room. Nathan's tiny white, furry ears twitched as every magnified sound he heard.
His acute reactions to his hyper-alert senses left him wearied. He wanted very much to bring an end to this unwelcome change, but how could he possibly accomplish that?