Small Act of Mercy

I saw a small spider inching its way slowly along my window pane. It was a normal spider; eight legs, eight eyes, and possessing the ability to make me cry in anguish and throw everything within a two mile radius. As soon as I saw it, I grabbed a heavy book from my desk without hesitation. I had always hated killing bugs since I didn’t particularly enjoy seeing their squished, pitiful little bodies smear my clean surfaces. But I dreaded having to see this many-eyed monstrosity as I was applying my makeup or doing something else of productive value. So here I was, a few seconds away from being deemed a murderer, my book hovering over the now frozen spider when suddenly a thought struck me. Maybe this spider has a life outside being the object of children’s’ nightmares. Maybe he has a nine-to-five job and has a cockroach boss he isn’t fond of. Maybe he has a family he has to get back to. And thinking of his spider babies (with disgust), I pulled the book away and watched as the spider scurried to the window. It may have been a small act of mercy, but I could now officially say I saved a life.