We have an intruder. Unwanted, unwelcomed, uncaring, he just keeps coming back. Slowly, I've come to hate him. I would hit him, squash him against a wall and crush him under my foot if I could. He is singularly annoying because he always runs away right before I blow up and end him.
He usually comes in and just stares at me with unblinking eyes, as if to say: "I've got eight legs and 180 degrees of peripheral vision. I dare you to sneak up on me."
I wonder if he is alone.
You wonder if he's alone; I wonder if he's lonely.
ReplyDeleteAlso, well, well, well done.
I thought it was a spider. I have a gang of them living behind my door, but since they rarely venture out into the rest of the room I leave them be.
ReplyDeleteI, too, thought it was a spider. I like spiders most of the time.
ReplyDeleteIt is a spider. I hope I don't eat it in the middle of the night. BUT it's on the other side of the room anyway.
ReplyDelete