A few weeks ago, I set my purse on the floor of an office on the second story. Several hours later, it was full of ants who had managed to smell and discover the sandwich that I had stored in there for lunch. Not only did they deprive me of my lunch, but spent the rest of the afternoon biting me.
I spent all afternoon being annoyed with the ants.
Little monsters.
When I got home that evening, I sat at my kitchen table and a single, injured ant limped off my sleeve, struggled around the table for a few moments and then died in front of me.
Wounded.
Alone.
Taken 100 miles away from its brethren
By me,
who could make another sandwich.
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