“I turned the stone with my toes and in the dark silt beneath, pressed against the lingering damp, was a smoke coloured scorpion. It remained still for beat then turned this way and that, the stiff raft of its body eddying on wire legs, pincers held high and circling itself in mechanical protest. For a moment I saw every translucence and every pinkish stain of shadow that swam between the segments of its tail.

You can ask simple questions to reveal complex realities, you could turn a stone for no reason other than brief curiosity, an unthinking physical act- but in the aftermath discover your influence on others. 

Or you can ask the most complicated questions and only find basic truths- a scorpion (given an assumed ability to contemplate its own existence) might wonder why it found itself drowning beneath the sudden bright heat it had fastidiously sought to avoid- but the only answer available: because it happened. There is no plan. 

I returned the stone, careful to match its original position, hopeful that the course of the day had been restored. 

Tomorrow I will look for a job.

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