my dad's best friend died before i was born. growing up, i'd always hear paul stories. how he was creative and funny and happy even up to the end. i heard stories about his infectious laugh. about how he had the hiccups for multiple days in the hospital. how, when he died, my dad was across town and felt a sharp, unbearable pain in his side, so bad that he couldn't stand up. after his death, my dad started seeing spiders everywhere. spiders are creative, just like paul was. and so often they are crushed. for what? because people are scared of them. 

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i still don't kill spiders.