What are they after?
The ants. They're everywhere. They come in through windows… through cracks… they march in regimented lines across the crown molding.
They make their trails down walls, along the counters, and all over the floors.
Why?!
I've washed the floor a thousand times. I've wiped off the counters, and I've gone over the walls. I don't leave food out, I don't leave water in the sink. I don't know why they're doing this!
What are they after?!
I've sprayed, I've laid out orange rinds, and I've used bug bombs. Sure, it stops the assault for a while, maybe I'll receive a few days of rest at most… but they always come back.
Always.
Little black bodies marching, little antennae waving, little invisible trails left crisscrossing every surface.
I find them all the time. I pick them out of my hair and flick them from my arms. I'm constantly dusting off my pants, and just as routinely, I… FIND… ANTS!!
Here. There's one now.
There's her friend.
Here comes the whole invading army, up the air vent.
I kneel on the bathroom floor and scrub them away with the orange cleaner and the dirty rag, now dotted and smeared with hordes of crushed, miniscule bodies.
I clean everything so well, I don't know what they could possibly want.
It's insane! This floor is already sparkling, and I'm washing it anyway! There's nothing here for you, little monsters!
There. Look! The floor is so clean I can see my own reflection! Sunken eyes, greenish skin, mealy lips drawn back over orange teeth.
WHAT ARE THEY AFTER?!