Pig was Ana’s escape from her dreams. Flimsy and deflated, the stuffing compacted by years of squishes and hugs, pig was always there for her when she woke from those terrible nightmares. Where her dreams were filled with dread, flashes of pain, dizzying movements, pig was pure comfort. Always the same, reliable, in her control.
Dan had no idea what would make anyone, let alone his colleague, proclaim their love for spiders of all things, but he never claimed to understand Summer. He closed his laptop and joined his colleague to go to the cafeteria. They sat down on opposite sides of the same table. “You love-” those two words shouldn’t be next to each other, “-spiders?”
“You don’t have to believe me,” she said petulantly.
Dan rummaged in his bag in search for his food. “Well good,” he said. He plopped his lunch box on the table. “Because I don’t.”
That question didn’t deserve an answer. There was nothing lovable about spiders. Nothing. And he knew for a fact Summer was scared of them. He gave her a look.
“I love them, really.”
Dan closed his laptop and stood up, joining Summer on the way to the cafeteria. They sat down on opposite sides of their usual table. “You love spiders,” he said, still with his stupid eyebrow raised.
“You don’t have to believe me.”
“Well good,” he said while digging into his bag for his lunch. “Because I don’t.”
Summer frowned. “Why not?”
Dan just gave her a look.
“Fine,” she said. She slumped in her chair exaggeratively. “Fuck, I’m so scared of them.”