Paranormal. // Beady black ants, small and matte and anonymous-looking, crowd around some coconut water spilled on the kitchen counter, dropped crumbs on the floor, bits of sugar in a saucer, anything oily, and a small river of them courses around the perimeter of the kitchen, spilling out as a black swarm on the catfood dish. Flowing. It rained for a minute, night releasing a sigh. Now the air cools from evaporation off leaves wet and shiny in the dark. Walking outside to refill a glass, I see movement in the corner of my eye. A shadow that defies looking. Might be a ghost.
Different ants have different signals to make them go away. “Earthquake”, we tap or shake a plate, they file away, we can wash the dish. Or “typhoon”, we blow on the plate, they scatter and go, we can wash the dish. Beady black ants don’t have a signal. We tap the dish, blow on it, they spread, but they don’t leave or even disperse very much. They run around in panic circles. E. blows tobacco smoke, “forest fire”, as last resort. They don’t clear away. Can’t wash a dish or clean the counter without wiping multitudes up or putting them down the drain. They stick to dishes, even under running water. And they crawl onto anything, when upset, hands, tissues, bare feet, cats. Not aggressive, but fast, and when you accidentally squish one, the bite is a pink welt that itches and hurts for three or four days. We find them crawling on us, biting us, in our clothes, in our bed at night, in our food dishes. Pinch it off, toss on the ground. A moving blur on a glasses lense. Ant.
(The rain these past days isn’t normal, for this time of year. The ants, displaced by the rain, are not normal. A ghost that I saw in the kitchen is… more normal than the ants.)