It was raining. It was raining so hard. I decided to take a walk. I imagined what it must be like for regular bugs, suffering through this torrent of violence.
The slugs are waking. I can hear them begin to stir from their slumber. The rain sends water torpedoing into the earth, soaking deep into the soil, and gently disturbing the slugs into action.
I was not cold even though I was mostly exposed and it was a meager 44 degrees fahrenheit. I thought about driving quickly. I thought about accidentally surviving the crash, and what could truly be the worst possible outcome. I thought about drowning (so quiet).
My attention was caught by a ballet preformed by the silhouettes of leaves below the streetlights. I watched them dance back and forth in the wind. Black and white. No guess-work. I completely forgot about my car, about drowning, about the slugs.
The slugs come out when it rains and they fuck, and they chew off their dicks and they lay eggs. I was in the rain too for the very first time. I was just a slug among slugs. I was melting in a trail behind myself and I was finally being honest.
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