As if I’m inviting them by showing them T’s that are referring to their existence.
One snail entered my kitchen yesterday evening. It already had arrived in the sink, when I turned on the light in the kitchen to find myself a beer.
I moved my hand unconsciously of its presence a few centimeters past it, reaching for the cap, which had missed its supposed destination.
I hesitated. Didn’t know what to do. Stood there with disgust.
A snail in my sink!
I found myself a sort of a tool. So I could pick it up & throw it back into the garden.
Next time I kill’m.
Hate it.
Now I totally forgot to tell about the T itself.