They came as before long as I put the plate down, small dark specks hurrying in from the hole in unfaltering lines. As it were a modest bunch at to begin with, at that point handfuls, at that point hundreds. They showed up to have been observing and holding up, mindful that nourishment was theirs as before long because it hit the surface. They didn't care that I attempted to shoo them absent.
Ants fear pulverization, not hands. I swatted, wiped, and reviled, but more came in a efficient and tenacious manner. The plate was not the as it were thing. The counter. The table. the ground. An guileful conquest. They were here to remain, having overseen to urge in.
They were working underground, I thought, their burrows expanding underneath my feet, a mystery world of movement and movement. What was the number of individuals show? Thousands? Millions? A colony as well huge to overcome, as well unflinching to forsake.
I briefly mulled over giving up. Maybe they were more meriting. Maybe I never had this kitchen within the to begin with put. Maybe everything had a place to the ants in the event that they had sufficient time.