Spiderweb -Part 3.

It happened just as he had suspected.

"A hideous creature!" exclaimed Aurora as she laid eyes on the repulsive spider inside the lunchbox. Sitting in the armchair, arms crossed, with a wrinkled face and pursed lips, she didn't seem to have any sympathy for her husband's new pet. Hugo didn't feel anger toward his wife; he loved her, or at least, he was accustomed to her, in the same way one becomes accustomed to joint pain as they age. He knew his wife had a difficult childhood. Her mother died when she was young, and she had to set aside the joys of childhood to take on household chores, the same chores she continued after getting married. Frustrated with life, in recent years, she had dedicated herself to two things: sitting and watching television while gaining weight, and saying no; an expert in the subject. It was as if with each refusal, she tried to make up for everything she had done reluctantly in the past. For that reason, at that moment, Hugo missed his own mother; who had passed away from rapid-onset cancer five years ago. She had been a saint, a person with a big heart who was entirely devoted to her son; young Hugo, who had no friends and therefore spent all his time with animals, even insects. And she allowed her son to keep any creature he wanted inside a jar. Hugo had quite a collection.

Aurora repositioned herself on the armchair and returned to the gossip show she was watching; two women were having a heated and senseless argument.

"I don't want it inside the house!" she declared, raising her voice to be heard over the TV show's commotion.

And with those words, another thread was woven.

Hugo, being a good husband, obeyed her but not entirely. He took his new friend to the shed behind the house; a small rectangle made of old boards and sheets, a window, and a rusty door that creaked in welcome when he entered. Hugo blew the dust off the small table inside before placing the lunchbox on it. A cloud of dust swirled into his face and he brushed it away with one hand. Hanging from nails on the wall were some old tools he no longer used: a saw, a hammer, pliers, and more. Right next to them, on a makeshift shelf, were several glass jars filled with nails and screws. He took the only empty jar, labeled COFFEE BEANS, and with the precision of a surgeon, he transferred his friend from the lunchbox to the container.

Hugo leaned in to admire her; she was the largest spider he had seen outside of television, with hairy legs and the color of clay. He had no idea what species of spider she belonged to, but he was sure, watching her explore the glass surface with her limbs, that she wouldn't survive long without oxygen. With the help of a nail and a hammer, he made some small breathing holes in the metal lid.

"I'll find something for you to eat," he said, and ran his finger over the glass.

His backyard had no boundary with the neighbors: Julia, Marcos, and their young daughter, Julieta. Not even a flimsy fence separated the properties, and that had always bothered Hugo; but he didn't have the time to build one (and of course, it had to be him who did it), nor the money; maybe when he finally retired. He couldn't understand why they didn't take care of it themselves, especially given how quickly they had built their house; many people don't know it, but money has the power to accelerate time. Maybe the couple was unaware of their backyard; they were rarely seen on that part of the property, unlike someone else Hugo knew.

As he left the shed and took a few steps, as if he had called her with his thoughts, he encountered a little visitor. The slightly chubby girl gave him a mischievous smile, while the golden pigtails on both sides of her angelic face fluttered in the breeze.

"Hello, sir," she greeted him, and rocked the stuffed bear in her arms.

Hugo watched her, returned the greeting without much enthusiasm, and then ignored her, hurrying toward his house with long strides. He didn't hate the girl, but something inside him told him to stay away from her; he simply didn't like her. Her parents are young and are learning to raise her, his wife had told him. She's a little devil, Hugo had judged.

When he returned, the sunset had turned a reddish hue on the horizon, and the little girl was no longer there. That didn't bother Hugo too much. The setting sun, on the other hand, was another matter. The shed had no lighting of its own, so he had to leave the door open to see something in the gathering darkness. Using a plastic stool, he sat in front of his new pet and proceeded to uncover the jar delicately.

"I hope you like these," he murmured.

Using his fingers as makeshift tweezers, he dropped a couple of flies into the container, as if they were chocolate chips. These were the ones he had managed to catch in his house with the help of a rolled-up magazine and a lot of patience.

At first, nothing happened. The dead insects didn't seem to pique the spider's appetite, as she remained still with her front legs raised as a warning. After several minutes without any changes, Hugo was about to give up. Then the spider pounced on the lifeless insects. She brought them to her mouth and devoured them. The action only lasted a few seconds but had the power to shave a couple of decades off Hugo's face for that amount of time. He was fascinated; his eyes sparkled with childlike excitement. He needed to catch more food, and if it was still alive, even better. Hopefully, he'd find a cockroach under the sink.