the road — January 12, 2025

This tarantula wanted to duel for my dinner. Tan fur on the abdomen, dark chocolate on the legs, the whole body still in that way spiders are still, which is not stillness so much as attention. I stood there a while, holding the dish I used to keep us both safe at an angle, watching her not move, aware that I was the one being watched back. Then took her outside. A quiet handoff, a borrowed kitchen, an animal in transit between one life and the next. I kept thinking about how much of the road is like this — carrying a small living thing from one room to another and pretending you know where you are going.