November 18th
look around your room, or any space that you love & call home, and write about some aspect of it
Spiders often come into my room through the open window that overlooks my bed. I don't like spiders but I don't hate them either. Outside, they can be nice to look at and in the summer, when the window's open, and the flies overextend their reach, I don't mind some form of croud control, but otherwise, in the cup, and out the front door you go. In the winter, I shut my window tight.
Nestled on the bottom left corner, just outside my window, is a spider and its web. Its bulbous brown body thistled with tiny little hairs and splotches of patterning running down the middle of its body. Small and thin legs jut out from beneath its carapace.
I never noticed it before but by the time I did, it had already made itself comfortable. The web sprawled across the corner of my window, only a few inches of glazed glass between us, a large house fly wrapped haphazardly in silk placed neatly in the middle of the web. Four front legs towered over its body while the spider slowly enjoyed its meal.
Must be nice, I thought to myself.
Every now and then I see a new bug stuck on the web, some alive, some not. Must be pretty successful, I thought to myself.
There was a storm that passed through recently. Heavy winds and rain, all that a storm brings. I remembered the spider and I remember the web and pushed the curtain aside.
Nothing. No spider, not even any web. Must be the wind, I thought to myself.