The way to work is strewn with October leaves, and empty crisp packets scuttling along the ground. The rustling of their friends, still holding on to their branch even though they know the enevitable is near, confirms the presence of an invisible power, felt and heard. Pools of water remain in cracks on the ground, though it hasn't rained for days.
The way to work is filled with plodding in time to an unheard beat. The whites of their ears being it's only evidence, as they gather at milestones along a common path. By their hundreds they swarm from side roads, and alley ways, all unflinching in their goal, and determined in their destination.
The way to work is a constant occurance, for all, every day. But today, ones path becomes interrupted. Is it a momentary lapse in judgement? Does the goal fade from importantance? Has ones determination flinched? No. The way is crossed by a creature. The creature is much smaller than one is, so it seems no danger, but one has stopped.
Perhaps it is poisonous, perhaps thats why one stops. But now one approaches the creature. The creature does not appear to be alarmed, does it not fear one? Surely one plans to consume it. Indeed! One is attempting to trap the creature and is reaching out. But no harm comes to the creature, and no harm has come to one.
The movements of the creature are sudden, sensing that this uneasy truce cannot continue, and it burst forth to freedom from ones grasp. Surely, a lucky escape. With ones distraction gone, and others still passing-by, a slow realisation of ones original goal, and a returned determination, press one back onto the way to work.
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