The tarantula stood in a ball, legs crammed into its body. I petted it, hoping to soothe it, but I only made it cringe more. I tipped the container to let the tarantula out, tapping the bottom to make it slide. It froze, balled up on the concrete slab. My hair dripped with all the drizzle it had accumulated, but I couldn’t leave, not without knowing that the tarantula would live. Slowly, it unfurled one of its legs. Once this leg felt safe enough, it began unspooling the rest, a slow stretching out onto the slab until it stood fully at ease. Then, with a speed I couldn’t have guessed, it
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