Ethan sat motionless and vacant-eyed, smothered in a strange numbness. He had been sitting like this, for god knows how long, in the porch of the house that was no longer his own. The virus had taken everything from him. His job, his home, his wife. Once so full of life, all Ethan was left with now was emptiness inside.
He clutched the pistol in his pocket tighter. The cold metal stung, but it was as if the pistol was fused to his hand, urging him towards the inevitable end. Soon, very soon.
Then, something caught his eye. It was a little white spider. Blank like my life, Ethan murmured to himself. Balancing daintily on its long legs, the itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout that trailed the wall all the way down from the roof. Ethan looked at it spellbound. At least the spider had found a secure place for itself.
Suddenly the sky turned dark and down came the rain, and washed the spider out. It curled into a ball and rolled away. What chance did it have, after all!
Then, just like that, the skies cleared and out came the sun, and dried up all the rain. Like the parched earth had greedily sucked up all the water and everything in it to slake its thirst. Poor little spider, Ethan thought. Nothing going your way, is it? But there it was, crawling out of a tiny crack in the ground. It uncurled its legs, and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again. Ethan looked in wonderment. He found his fingers around the pistol had loosened somehow; he pulled the offensive load out of his pocket and flung it away.
It was time to crawl out of the hole.
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