You met her on a dating website for single people who keep ant farms. Went on your first date in The Tunnel of Love. Debated the benefits of gypsum versus sand versus acrylic ant landscapes as you went floating down the artificial reservoir. Acknowledged that you knew the difference between gel farms & worker farms. Marveled at tacky velvet seats & animatronic swans of the carnival ride. Knew she was the one. Started sleeping in each other’s beds. Watched the ant queen & her brood slip through their tunnel system as you crawled over each other below the sheets. Bought her a sea monkey habitat for your anniversary. Didn’t want her tiny plastic world getting lonely. Popped the big question at the state fair years later. Asked if she wanted to start an ant colony together. Like a marriage proposal, but better. Smaller. When she said yes, the two of you pocketed dollars & spent them on connectors & humidifiers for the ants. A toothbrush holder for the bathroom. The sea monkeys bloated with tendrils. Made more sea monkeys. For your birthday, she built you a miniature amusement park. Ants crowded around the base of the bottle cap ferris wheel. You couldn’t tell which were yours & which were hers. They all ran together in a shining sea of black.
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