Beside me my wife twists in her carapace. She has never been the same since reading that book. Just before the bell rings, which is not a bell but the sound of a harp, she sighs, and I watch in wonder as her warm breath leaves sparkles of mist on her glossy black jaws.
I found the mandibles a little disconcerting at first but have gradually come to find them endearing. Beautiful even. Now it is the strange clicking that irritates me even though I have learned to make out the words.
The harp rings and she unfolds her many slender legs. Not bad for a woman her age. “Is it morning?” she asks and I reply “Yes, I think so.”
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