Spiderman

I wrote this during the summer, there was a spider that lived in the window near my cubicle at work, and this is his story.
It may seem a little childish in sense, but it was a long lonely summer in the office "Grisham" (I named him) was my only friend. We had lunch together almost everyday. His death came eventually, when the windows were cleaned. I miss him, my little summer friend.


There is a spider who lives in my window.
The window is on the 5th floor of a tall building, and although it is no where near the highest floor on the building, it is still quite a high place for a spider to be living.
Nevertheless, every morning he is there, without fail. Rain or shine, way up in my window, waiting patiently in the center of his web.

He is not a small spider, but rather big, at least he is in my eyes. He has a big round body, the size of a dime. I can see his legs as he glides across his web.

He rarely moves, but when he does there is something about it that catches my eye. Graceful is not the word I would use to describe a spider, but there is something different in his movements. It is not elegant in any way to be sure, yet, it is special. It’s an awkward way of moving, going every which way at once. He seems to be in a hurry, but I can see no reason for him to rush.

I wonder sometimes how he can possibly survive so high. Can there really be an abundance of flies and bugs passing through his high-rise home? There never appears to be anything trapped in his web, but still, he’s there day after day.

Most days he just sits in wait in the center of his web. Sometimes I turn to look, but he has disappeared. There are days when I think a bird has finally discovered his hiding place, but he is always back the next morning without fail, waiting in the center of his web.

The weather is terrible today, grey and wet. The wind, although not quite gale force, is picking up speeds. A part of me is worried that the spider will be washed away. I tell myself that it’s silly to worry about a spider, but in a small way he is more then just a spider to me. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing him in the corner of my eye, always perched high in his window. He is alone up here, like me in a way, and a tiny part of me will miss him when he is gone.

I wonder what will happen when the time comes for the window washers to pass by with their squeegees, to clean away the dust and grime. There won’t be any web left for him when they’re through. There won’t be anywhere for him to hide that day.

He is moving again, frantic movements that I haven’t seen before. Perhaps he has finally caught something, or maybe the wind is trying to bring him down from his high-rise. He is all over the place, and his web is bouncing quite violently.

And now he’s gone. He has disappeared from my view, and I don’t think he’ll be coming back.
My window is really too high up for a spider to be hiding, maybe its time he found a new home.