The problem at the center of the whole thing is that I love bugs. I adore the mealworm colony my entomologist housemate keeps in a tupperware on the kitchen counter. I love the tiny spiders whose webs hang from the gate and the many types of beetles with their jewel-like shells. One night, we put on headlamps to shine on the back yard, so we could catch the glint of the many eyes in the grass. I gently move outside rather than crush, whenever I can. The problem at the center

Dear Dreadful Diary, I’ve discovered even more about Edward and my mistakes tonight. It’s even worse than I’d been led to believe. When I arrived at his home I had to double check that I had the right address. It appeared so run down and overgrown with weeds. The paneling along the outside was covered in dust and dirt and the roof seemed almost caved in. It was as if no one had lived in it for decades. I had half a mind to leave right then and there but I could picture Edward

The first spider appeared on his pillow. It was small, black, and perfectly still. He found it when he pulled back the sheets, its legs folded beneath its body. He crushed it with a tissue. The next morning, there were three more. They occupied the corners of the bedroom, the ceiling above the bed, and the narrow space behind the dresser. He killed them one by one, checking the room for webs. By evening, he had found eleven, so he bought insecticide. He sprayed the bedroom, t

Am I cold, or is the world cold? Is this shivering last-ditch attempt at physical survival or existential dread or the presence of something even more monstrous than me out there in the dark? I'm too tired to tell. So I close my eyes on the sight of these wild, wondrous woods and whistle, just in case. Sometimes you just want to rule out the worst case (or maybe get the inevitable over with).

The cold arrived in the middle of summer. Seth first noticed it first in the hallway, a narrow strip of air that seemed to separate the living room from the stairs. When he crossed it, his skin prickled. His breath clouded in front of him. He checked the windows. They were closed. He checked the heating system, though there was no reason to turn it on in July, but the cold remained. That night, he placed a thermometer on the hallway table. In the morning, it read twenty-one d