Sophie is asleep on the single bed, her fists tight under her chin, her long legs like flowing caramel, the sheet bunched at the foot of the bed. As quietly as I can, I roll over to face the window, leaning across to pull the curtain closed. From outside comes the sound of slamming doors followed by a car starting. A young girl calls, ‘Daddy,’ and someone answers, ‘Princess.’ The child giggles. Car tyres crunch over the gravel. Above the window, a huntsman spider gangles along the wall, all soft pudgy body on spindly legs. Huntsmen bleed yellow. If I threw my shoe, I’d squash him flat and put a hole in the wall the size of Queensland. Sophie’s voice is drowsy behind me. ‘He’s harmless.’ I don’t turn around. ‘Repulsive.’ The spider creeps into a crack near the ceiling, one long limb hanging out. ‘He’s graceful,’ Sophie says. ‘Misunderstood, with those nimble legs.’ Sophie stands at the foot of my bed, the towel wrapped around her.
What do You think about Black Painted Fingernails?
