Albert was a mouse. He had always been a mouse and probably always would be a mouse for as long as he lived.
His father had been a mouse too, and so had his grandfather. In fact, as far as Albert knew, his entire family had been mice for as far back as anyone could possibly remember.
The other thing that Albert knew was that he, and his family, had always lived in Dartmouth, at No. 10 Higher Street, in a lovely white three-storey house next to the bookshop. Albert loved living here, with his mother and his two younger sisters, Dorothy and Millie.
Yes, the more he thought about it the more he knew that No. 10 was the best house he had ever lived in, even though it was actually the only house he had ever lived in.
Albert would often sit alone in one of the bedroom windows and look across the rooftops. From there he would wonder if all the other mice in all the other houses that he could see were as happy as he was.
The trouble was, that Albert had never been past the garden gate, let alone been into any of the streets, and he had certainly not met any other mice. But he decided that whoever they were, and wherever they were, they could not possibly be as happy as he was, and that was that.
"One day I'm going to see the world " He said to himself.
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