chapter
4 Pages

Survival of the Least Fit

Months after Zane and I separated, I was alone, scrubbing laundry at the courtyard well of my Trinidad hotel when I spotted a brown blob in peripheral right. I swung around to see that a sloth had ambled inside. What pure joy! I figured we could go to my room and cuddle or play house or something, so I stooped to pick him up, but this individual was not resigned to capture. The sloth gave me its best impression of ferocity: the outstretching of an overgrown arm. Ludicrous. How could this creature ever hope to defend itself?