The man walked in the other room and saw a bowl full of snails.
He walked around the bowl, around the lockers and the piles of socks left across the room and peeked inside the thin glass dome. He peered at the wriggling, writhing little tongues inside as they kissed slowly.
What are you? How did you get here? the man asked.
We are snails, said the snails. We are here to suck your blood.
The man's eyes grew wide. His heart grew faint and his blood was soft and thin, like the clouds at night. His hand slapped the side of the bowl, sending it spinning off its perch on the table, sending it spinning off into space and rolling through the air and crashing and cracking into the hard floor below.
Ah but now you have set us free, said the snails as they twisted and wallowed around at his feet, their slime pierced by broken glass.
Now you are ours.
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