A cricket stations itself somewhere in mummy's wardrobe. Its monotonous chatter sounds through the entire night, interrupting the entire family in their sleep. Daddy says he's been having nightmares- wakes up in the middle of the night, knocks on my door asking if i heard it too. No, not really. Listen closely. Oh yes, i do now. Just trying to get work done has made me immune to my surroundings. I get up, grab the pesticide. It says for cockroaches only. Don't care. Just spray.

Psst.. it continues to chatter.
Pssst.. the insect slows down in its rhythm.
One last time, says daddy. Total silence follows.

I think its dead. Realized i don't really know how a cricket looks like but it was nowhere to be seen. Somewhere amongst the wardrobe, we know its dead and all that's left is the toxic smell of pesticide.

< >