They were scattered in the sand.
Skittering around every which way.
There weren't many of them.
Only a dozen or so.
I don't know why they were there.
No nest was nearby, only a stick.
I picked it up.
I drew a circle in the sand, around the ants.
They didn't seem to notice.
I picked up one between my fingers.
It wiggled its legs.
I squished its abdomen.
Its fluids leaked over my fingertips.
I rubbed them in the sand.
I picked up another two.
They wriggled their legs.
I crushed them in my fist.
Only one leaked, so I tried to flick the other off my palm.
He was cut in two.
I cleaned my hands again.
The ants were all crimson and onyx.
I poked some into the sand with a stick.
I saw a rock nearby.
I ground one against it.
They all end up smeared into black sludge.
The sun was above, and the air was shimmering.
Sweat sat on my brow.
There were only a few more ants.
They hadn't seemed to notice.
Two wandered up my leg.
I swatted them off.
I squished the first into the dirt.
I lost the second.
They all look the same.
I played with some ants today.
he did too
