She came out of the jungle of the exercise room and straight into the desert of the concrete slab.
Couldn’t get a picture of it while it was moving but a little moisture lured it to a stop for long enough.
There it supped a while, could have been a long time since it had any water, albeit second hand.
Water has always been somewhere else, in the clouds, the garden, the sea, drunk and evaporated, or spit.
It’s all water in the end … and the beginning. To an earwig. Or not …