Ants

There were ants, everywhere.

They were on the windowsill. They were on the curtains. I didn't know what to do. Warden discovered them. He licked them from the windowsill. He's always hungry! I said, "Warden, what are you doing?" The ants crawled on his tongue. The ants crawled on his face. He buried his head into the carpet. He barked. I patted the ants from his face.

I didn't know what to do! All I had was all-purpose cleaner. So I sprayed the ants on the windowsill. Many drowned. Some struggled to drier surfaces and disappeared, to somewhere. I wiped them up into a paper towel and tossed the paper towel into a trash bag. I imagined some of the ants moving inside the bag, lost and not caring. Lost and content. All lost, nonetheless.

Afterwards, I looked to see where the ants came from. But I couldn't find a trail.

I hope this doesn't become a problem.