That summer smelled like burning ants.

“C’mon, give your old man a hug,” he said, struggling to sit up straight amongst white sheets. I could feel his bones when I wrapped my arms around his tired body.

The ants squirmed under my magnifying class, but I was a merciless god.

Regina Solomond is a writer from Wexford, Pennsylvania. She is inspired by the oddities of the world and the strange people living in it.