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Snails

When it rains cats and dogs, the snails come out. I step nimbly around them, lifting my abaya slightly. I hate wet hems—and stepping on snails.

Their bulbous shells are easy enough to spot, though their dull colour is oddly similar to the sidewalk's.

If I stop to look, I see their feelers moving around in a slow, circular motion. Their slimy bodies glacially inch forward towards the other end of the sidewalk.

But if it's dark out, or I'm in a rush, or both, it's almost inevitable I'll hear that unmistakable crunch.

Yuck. And sorry!

(November 2018)

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