Today I massacred a few dozen black ants. It was a painless, quick extermination with simply a wish of wet cloth and a bath of dishwashing liquid. The bubbles froth on the grey rug which seems to evoke the souls of the deceased insects, still unable to comprehend the immediate death they just encountered.
My hands reek of invisible blood, permeating the air in various convulsions. Nausea-ish, I finished washing the dishes and contemplated the number of lives eliminated by these same hands: four kittens, a few hundred ants and mosquitoes plus the unknown number of doomed kangkong blossoms and aloe vera I tried to plant with these un-green thumbs.
Blood-stained and guilty as charged, I rinsed what remains of the unseen goo along with the plates and forks we utilized for dinner. By the time we have breakfast on the morrow, our lips and stomachs too will be painted.