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There is an ant on the wall,
Tiny black and probably hungry.
It crawled past my feet as I returned from the mailbox,
Lucky in its timing so as not to be squashed by the door or by feet.
It strayed just a bit too far from its colony.
Distracted by smells it was not familiar with,
It ventured inside.
It will not be leaving.
I see the dark speck on the white wall.
It moves.
It’s not such a strange occurrence;
It’s summer after all.
I pluck a tissue from the nearby box and I move to the wall.
And for a moment I am god.
As I pinch the little insect between two tissue-covered fingers
I lift it from the wall.
My fingers squeeze together.
I hear a soft crunch as the little thing is pressed flat and unmoving.
The tissue is crumpled and discarded.
I don’t even peak at the tiny life I took
Because it was only an ant,
Oblivious and small
Like I must be to them.
So for a moment I was god.
About the Creator
Sarah Rhoden
Writing about anything and everything (from the perspective of a mentally ill, probably autistic, nonbinary, pansexual nerd)
25 she/they
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