I placed the log in the fire and only then noticed the tiny spider moseying along the top side, oblivious to its dire situation but sure to notice in a moment as the flames reached out to kiss the wood. Quick as I could, I snatched the log back out, burning my fingers only a little as I dropped it singed and smoking on the hearth. Just as quickly, the spider hopped off the log and before I could stop it, it ran lickety split right into the burning coals, perhaps realizing too late its mistake. Or perhaps that spider had a date with death that day. Either way, I regretted, even as I accepted, the part I played in its demise.