"Nonsense," I whispered back to her, "Every moment you live is a secret until you tell someone. A hundred secrets. There are glories and absurdities and tragedies in each moment, in the trace molecules you smell and the passing thoughts you forget a moment later. Pay attention to those secrets and don't pretend they're unimportant. Don't deglamorize your moments. Whisper them excitedly."
That's my secret to her, I guess. If we're tallying secrets.
"Well," she said back, hesitantly, "I am a talking mouse. Does that count?"