June 3, 2026

It Was Late Afternoon When I Froze and Told Myself: ‘Stop! Don’t Kill That House Centipede!’

The pest control process began, the specialist moving through the apartment with practiced efficiency.

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Jamie followed, asking questions, ensuring everything was done right.

I trailed behind, my mind a storm of conflicting emotions.

In the kitchen, the specialist set traps and sprayed corners.

Jamie watched, arms crossed, a satisfied expression settling.

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It was almost over, and I felt a strange kind of loss.

All those tiny creatures, gone.

Jamie caught my eye, raising an eyebrow.

“You okay?” Jamie asked for the second time, a hint of concern breaking through.

I nodded, forcing a smile.

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