A man and a woman sit on opposite sides of a table.
HIM: I have this spider. He doesn’t belong to me. In the bathroom.
HER: That’s the trouble with Autumn. They all come indoors.
HIM: I gave it a job. Yes? In my own mind. Justifies sharing space with him.
HER: The dabbled light of Autumn, falling leaves, I can do. Not that.
HIM: I let him stay because he eats the mosquitoes. He wraps them up.
HER: He’ll leave his web though. Go and make another one.
HIM: He eats mosquitoes. No-one ever missed a mosquito. Ever.
HER: Old webs just get covered in dust. I really do not like dust.
HIM: But buzzing, annoying things that bite you and suck your blood?
HER: My Mum said that’s why I joined the police. I like tidying things up.
HIM: Mosquitoes should be killed. Wrapped up. Like kids.
HER: So. As I asked you before. Where were you on the morning of the 3rd?