Jacob met his spider in the autumn. He was standing at the woods edge, staring through naked trees at low cold headstones in the graveyard. She slid into view ponderously, descending from barren branches. He held up his cane and she lit on the knob, waving her feelers inquisitively. He spun the walking-stick and inspected her. She was ash-white, fat as a gumdrop and fuzzy as a catkin. A dark blotch marked her back, something like a teardrop, something like an hourglass. Nothing good came from associating with spiders. He had been told that once. Still, squishing her seemed unpleasant. She marched up his arm. He let her be and leaned on his cane, watching October's breath swirl leaves over frost-blasted grass. She trailed cobweb up his jacket, marking him, white thread stark in the cold gold light. Afternoon darkened to evening. He turned and went inside, spider riding on his hat brim. [hr] Jacob made her a spot in his desk. He stored her in a slim velvet case, an innocuous thing that once held a fancy pen or gilty watch, some thoughtless formal condescension. At first he closed it and tucked her out of sight. But he could always hear her rustling. He would slide the drawer out and flick the case open and she would sit quiescent, looking up, white, fuzzy, sometimes marked with a timepiece and sometimes tears. So he would close the case and shut the drawer until the rustling returned. He finally moved his inkwell aside and left her in the open. She would explore his papers, trailing threads. His clients would grimace when given a contract or letter smeared with spiderweb. "They're bad company, you know?" He would nod, smile. "Can't be trusted." "Of course." He would grin. "It's a temporary thing. I'll be quit of it soon." They would snort and frown and he would shrug and return to work, untangling his pen and brushing lace from his papers. [hr] At first, Jacob's housekeeper simply scowled and tutted, sweeping up stray webs or curling them around her feather-duster. She would throw the study windows wide, letting in clean cold autumn air to scour cruft and dust from floors and walls. But when the webs began spreading, draping banisters and shelves in wispy curtains, she threw up her hands, hung up her broom, and slammed the door on her way out. Jacob tried to call after, but could only frown. Afterwards, he closed the windows. The case sat on the desk. The spider sat in the case, staring at him. He sat in the web and stared back. [hr] His friends trickled away slowly. He kept the spider hidden and few noticed. Some would, but laugh it off or wave it away. Later they laughed uncomfortably, awkwardly tearing gobs of web from chairs before sitting, hacking paths when they came in the door. They avoided his study. When she made herself obvious, some would touch her, let her crawl over their fingers. a few would brush the hourglass-or-skull and cringe, some would leave with strange looks. His relationships suffocated and curled up on themselves. His friends abandoned him one-by-one, politely citing prior appointments when invited or neglecting to return his messages. He tried to frown, but could only sigh. [hr] Jacob worked less. Outdoors, autumn crystallized into winter, layers of snow drifting down. Indoors, the spider meticulously spun her webs to match. She shrouded the portraits in the hall into numbing obscurity. She sealed the empty bedrooms, trapping old memories inside. She draped the windows, shredding the weak-as-water sunlight and leaving the graves distant as fading dreams. He would rise, push back cobwebbed quilts, shuffle down the hall, and collapse at his desk. He would flip the case open and watch as his spider set about her work. She spun all day, every day, insulating him, isolating him. [hr] One night he left the case open. [hr] He awoke stranded in cobweb. He could have stood; it wasn't heavy. He didn't. He could have lifted an arm or rolled over. He didn't. He watched, gaze dull, as the tearstained spider lay a line of silk across one of his eyelids and pulled it closed. Then the other. He felt threads accumulate. Behind sealed eyes, the day was a barely perceptible brightening before a slow, dark descent. He tried to sigh, but couldn't. He briefly wondered if things could have been different. In the end, her bite barely stung at all.