Every morning, the city unfolds beneath me. From shadowy darkness the buildings reemerge — shop windows blink on one by one, sleepy cars crawl through the streets. And the people, how they scurry back and forth. They look like ants. Wait. Those are ants. Dammit. I keep telling my roommate to change the ant traps. That’s his job. But no, he’s busy with his work, he says. Didn’t know playing Xbox all day was actually a job, but whatever; it’s ant-squashing time.