The spider sleeps on satin sheets laid out on the hardwood floor while your father's fingers trace circles on your back behind the locked bathroom door. Your mother breathes shallowly on the couch in the living room. She fell asleep watching TV with the dog curled at her feet. The tiles absorb the light. The mirror is just out of sight. The water spilling from the faucet, filling the porcelain tub. Your father's fingers were thick and short and calloused on the tips. Your father's lips were thin and dark and spiders fell from there.