Ants.
He sensed them everywhere. The stench that had been building for thirty years must have attracted them. They thrived on his misery, feasted on his angst. They clustered beneath the stone cracks, coordinating their movements as they collectively navigated the dark.
The notes on the piano clashed as he stood, shaking from his thoughts. Everywhere. Together. Two were on page 34 of his score, three on page 50. He counted them as they passed under his eyes, a thin dark line desecrating the white piano keys. He closed his eyes, but only saw more in the total darkness that ensued. When he opened them he stared at his score until the notes blurred and grew legs, distortedly making their way out of the page and pouring onto the wooden instrument.
Daylight might have been garish, but his realm of darkness was no escape. Not with the intruders.
He shook the page vigorously, watching as the ants dropped one by one to the floor, where they immediately crawled away. He could not see them on the floor, and did not find them on the piano, but experience had taught him long before that visibility did not denote truth.
