Auré’s sister never brought a spider to his bed, so when he saw one for the first time he was fascinated by the creature. That’s not to say he’d literally never seen a spider before, but more specifically he never examined one. When this did finally happen, he was lying on a patch of grass meant for strolling in the garden while his sister and her dearest friend were lounging on a couple of chairs. It was warm and an altogether indolent afternoon. The air smelled of grass and delicate things.

The spider was small and green. If not for the fact of crawling onto Auré’s extended arm, it would have passed by the three humans entirely unnoticed. If Auré had not taken off his coat he would not have felt those little legs tickling his skin. Such things are the occurrences of chance encounters, how they are defined; this one being between Auré and the little green spider. He watched it for a few moments, truly absorbing the bending of the legs, the hesitant nature, the complexity of it all. He then sat up slowly to not startle it too terribly, shifting his hand to cup it as it attempted to descend. He was able to get a closer gaze while holding it.

“What sort of spider is this?” he asked. His sister put down her cup and walked the few steps to kneel beside him. She looked at the spider handled so prettily in his palm. It did not seem very concerning.

“I’m not sure,” she said, standing again. “I did not study them.”

“Why not?” Auré asked. She returned to her chair with a dismissive shrug.

“I did not think to.”

“Sometimes they can jump,” Agathe said. When Auré turned to look towards her he saw that she was leaning forward. She must want to see the little green spider.

“Sometimes?” he asked, scooting backwards to show her his hand, “Or is it some of them?”

“Some of them,” she smiled. She glanced at the spider before looking down at Auré, who was now looking up at her. “Though not that one.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “I would have rather liked if it jumped.”

He leaned to the left to release the spider, making sure to direct it away from Agathe’s skirts. It proved quite fast. His sister watched him as he leaned back against Agathe’s layered legs, closing his eyes as the other began to direct the part of his hair. Clever, she thought. The recipe was evident.

Auré’s sister loved spending languid afternoons with her dearest friend, Auré loved lying in the garden, and Agathe loved Auré.