To the spider I sent out the death sentence on:
I was sitting in the exam chair at the optometrist’s, reading my book while waiting for the doctor, when I saw you out of the corner of my eye. I watched you scurry over to the stool then turn to me and run under my chair. I got up to wait for you—you had to realize there was nothing for you under the chair, so I figured you’d be scurrying off.
How did I know the doctor would come in while you were still checking things out? I had to tell him what I was doing, standing in the middle of the room, book at my side, staring at the chair. I doubt you heard or understood me but I did say “Just keep an eye out for him, I guess.”
I did not mean for him to slide the exam chair around to flush you out so he could stomp on you. You didn’t deserve that. Maybe I handled things poorly. I can’t take back what happened, but please know I am very, very sorry.