The first time she noticed the ant, she was pouring bowls of cereal for her kids, listening to the thick clanking sound the stream of Cheerios made against the plastic. It made her jump – the ant did – when she noticed it crawling down her forearm like a freckle gone AWOL in some undisclosed skin war: The Dermis Skirmish, perhaps.  

            She caught the enemy soldier between her thumb and pointer-finger, smashing it between the soft pads of her fingertips, then tossing it into the kitchen garbage.

            Two days later, she noticed another ant. This time, it hustled across her toes while she washed her car in the driveway. When she couldn’t successfully kick it off – that...

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