Alice shook stones from her sandal. They sprayed across the ground, barely missing a stripey monarch caterpillar. “I’m sorry,” Alice said reflexively.
“You should be.” The caterpillar inched onto Alice’s other sandal. “Give me a lift. It’s the least you could do after nearly squishing me.”
“What?”
The caterpillar said, “Botanical garden; milkweeds, please.”
What were the odds? Zero, the odds were zero. The milkweeds waved pink heads in the wind. A few released their silky seeds. Alice felt stones in her sandals. No, in her sneakers, she was wearing sneakers. The patterned sunlight colored her calm. No caterpillars, nowhere.
