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The Spider's Way
We were conductors on a train. Prim suits and scowls are relentless beast of steam and iron that never seemed to get you exactly where you wanted to be unless there was something dreadful waiting for you. We punched tickets, ignored questions, and threw off those that looked like they were having too fine a time of it. The spider's always an easy job, no fuss, no complications, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure. I remember our first autumn appeal, black and reliable, just about presentable for the London auction houses we served. He squeezed its first owner until they stopped and dumped them in