He lived alone. Every morning the same spider had fallen in the bathtub. An elegant silvery-looking affair. He’d pick her up carefully by three legs (one leg would have just snapped off). Place her by her web in the corner behind the shampoo bottle. Every morning she’d be back twitching by the drain.
One day he fired up the hot water, slipped on the soap and fell with a crack. And there she was. She was a woman now. Tall and elegant in a silvery dress with the mist shrouding her in rainbows. She held him. Stroked his chest with her soft palm while the hot water hissed on the tiles. I’ve traveled a long time, she said. Looking for one small act of kindness. Finally I’ve found you. She bit into his head and began sucking out the juice.