Frances was staring off into space, chewing on an apple, sitting cross-legged on the tar roof of the school. She happened to look down at her knee, and found resting there a huge spider.
She stared at it impassively. “Well hello.”
“What?” asked one of the children.
“Not you, dear; this little fellow here on my knee.”
“A spider. Are you gonna kill it?”
“No, Lewis.” She watched it scurry down onto the tar. “You know, I used to be afraid of spiders.”
“Why aren’t you anymore?”
“Seems silly, now. A spider bites you, all you get is a bump.”