The bag worms were the first thing to go wrong. It was July. Late morning. The girl and boy woke to webby nests ghosting the branches of their apple trees.
The boy and girl were new to commitment, only seven days married. They still marveled at the mountain-valley shapes their bodies made beneath the sheets. They were still growing accustomed to each other’s smells. She thought he smelled like upturned earth. He thought she smelled like freshly cooked pasta. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the window, peering out through the screen.
“Where do they come from?” the boy wanted to know.
“How do we get rid of them?” the girl asked.
Cover Page Footnote
Swarm was originally published at Booth.
Booth: Vol. 7
, Article 3.
Available at: http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/booth/vol7/iss8/3