{Get out
Roger commanded.
He sat upright in the bed as he did, crossing his arms childishly as if it made his order any more severe.

|Get out, now.
He repeated sternly.

Sarah simply stared blankly at his back, fixing her lips as if to say something but the words could never find their way to her mouth. Roger had never spoken to her this way, in all their years together, through all the time they had shared in this place he had never been course with her, never complained about what she did, never even made a rude joke. For the first time since she had met Roger ; Sarah realized she had lost control. Sliding her long fingers over his shoulders she attempted to calm him as she always had, whispering gently as she did,

|but Roger,
|But nothing you whore!
and he shook his torso to free himself from her grip.

Panic coursed through Sarah; now she was losing him. The pair sat frozen on the sidewalk junction of 52^nd and Pear, the silence being broken only by the occasional whooshing of cars speeding to get home to mistresses and wives. The city had all but fallen asleep and the usual hustle of the day had long turned in for the night. Aside from perhaps a few scavengers sifting through the alleyway for lost treasures, Sarah and Roger were alone in their space next to the Oasis, a small Italian bistro that specialized in cold cuts.

Roger had come to this spot just a few months ago, quite accidently, after walking out on his family sighting creative differences and wandering aimlessly around the city in search of a new home. Weak from travel and little food he had followed the scent of bread to the steps of a little Italian deli on the upper-West side of town. The owner inside had taken pity on the poor decrepit old man begging on floor of his shop and given Roger some day old bread to stave his hunger. Ripping the loaf from the generous outstretched hand of the shop owner, Roger almost tripped over himself doubling back down the steps tearing up small pieces into his mouth. The shop owner watched in mild amusement and equal pity at the state of man.

Sitting down, Roger turned to face Sarah at long last. As he did, for the first time could he see how she now wept. The cardboard they both sat upon, usually protected by the awning of the Oasis deli and the alleyway itself was flooding with her salt. Slowly he lifted his hand to her cheek to gently massage away sea on her face, and run his fingers through her raven silk wires.

|Roger, please,
she begged bringing her own hand to his and pushing it against her face with force.
|Please don’t do this to me mi amor

At this, their eyes met, and not even the street song could be heard. Deep from inside her eye something began to twitch. It wiggled at first and startled Roger. A faint quiver under her eyelid, most unnatural by any means, began to grow more violently disturbing by the second. Crawling out from underneath her skin birthed a single shadowy spider that skittered with curiosity around Sarah’s face. When it discovered her mouth slightly ajar it fell inside causing her to cough. Roger jumped back astonished at what he was watching and horrified by what he saw next. Thousands upon thousands of the vile wretches came spewing from her insides like the plague. Their entire cardboard home was quickly enveloped by the blight of darkness. Roger was overwhelmed by the sudden infestation that had overcome Sarah and he began tearing her flesh off to get to the source of the spiders pouring from her, ripping bone and flesh off the way a child tears open presents. Clawing, devouring, now shoveling some of the filth into his own mouth to try and understand; to discover the source of this affliction.

Sarah sat in her hospital gown and watched her husband from the window of their apartment, which conveniently sat on top of their deli. She saw Roger flail and wretch alone in the alley outside of their home and would let him continue this until he wore himself out, and then with the help of her neighbors bring him inside, bathe him, redress him, and put him to bed.

|Why don’t you just put him away Sarah

T’was always the question at dinner or tea, and often even lunch when it was most inappropriate to ask such questions if you did not already know. Rarely would she even acknowledge it, quickly changing the topic to weather or sports as was customary. But a lucky unfortunate few swear she had once said,

|But brothers and sisters, don’t you want to know what he might find? }