Thousand: Six Hundred Seventy-Three

and dips a finger in, holding it there until she feels the tickle of an ant climbing aboard. “I did wonder if you guys survived all that friction,” the girl says, watching the ant explore the edge of her nail. This time the ceiling is just within range. Her finger extends into the hole and she waits a moment before withdrawing it. “Nice to see the whole thing,” she says aloud, looking the finger over. Somebody might be listening; the place does seem to be paying attention to her presence. But if hers are the only ears picking up her