Snail

They didn’t know how it arrived. And when I say they I mean Angela.

She had gone to get some water, leaving her desk where she had been working. A productive session yes but missing something.

She came back seconds later and there it was. A fully grown snail. It’s shell a golden brown circling a light beige. Its head and neck protruding explorativeky. Its tail moving, yes moving but very slowly (what do you expect. It’s a snail)

And its name, his name, was Till. Angela didn’t know its name yet or that it was a he.

However she was soon to find out.

She had a softeness in her heart for snails. Perhaps their smallness, their courage, the incredible fact that they existed despite all the predators.

Where did you come from? How are you here? She asked herself out loud.

Till turned around slowly. Which was unusual because everyone knows snails pivot super quickly.

I came from outside he said in a tiny voice.

Angela was surprised. Yes. On reflection later she was to acknowledge that this was the surprise of her life.

And what is your name?

Till. Yours?

Angela.

That’s a nice name.

What do you want Till?

Nothing. To be. You?

The same, said Angela.

---- To V.

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