[Leaving] False Widow
On the last day, amongst the final clearing and sorting, I was bitten by one of the false widow spiders.
Rushing around, with a million things still to do, I felt a sore spot on my leg and noticed an unusual puncture mark.
The next day, I felt drained from the physical and mental exhaustion of the move. Getting out of bed, I brushed my calf; hot, pulsing pain engulfed my leg.
False widow spiders only bite if they feel threatened.
The purple bite had a red circle radiating outwards from it. I had a flashback to seeing one of the familiar conker-coloured spiders lying on its back, legs in the air, between Ikea bags and cleaning products.
In nearly a decade of living with the false widows, I had never been bitten by one. Now, in the last moments, I had been.
It felt symbolic, as if all the stress and emotional pain surrounding the move had manifested physically, concentrated into this hot, throbbing spot.
For the first week after leaving, it ached every day.
