The War Begins
Panic set in immediately. The next morning, Mark was at the hardware store when it opened. He bought every spray, trap, and bait station they had. He was at war. He spent the entire Saturday pulling out appliances, spraying poison into corners, and laying down sticky traps. He was determined to take back his home.
“I don’t understand,” he told Sarah, wiping sweat from his forehead as he moved the stove. “I killed the big one! Where did all these come from?” He still didn’t make the connection. He assumed the first one had friends. He didn’t realize that the “friends” were actually the *children* of the very roach he had stomped on. He was fighting the ghosts of his own mistake.