“Hip” by Maura Devereux

The spiders must be coming for the ants. The ants are in my housedress. I can't kill all of them. I have killed some of them, and their blotches dot my elbows and arms. The spiders are big, and I'm not afraid of them. They are more interesting to watch than the ants. They are following the ants to the big carcass. Tom Brokaw is in the other room, saying that concern is growing about some war. There have been so many wars. It is not America's war, or Tom Brokaw's war. I didn't expect him to be on already, but it is reassuring that the important matters of the world continue without me. They always have. It's me who needs the world, not the other way around. When I can walk, I wipe up armies of ants with a wet rag. I wash them down the drain. They are moving dirt.

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