Weavers

"Is this the road that leads to Arachne Mills?" the salesman asked at the doughnut shop. Becky and Chip both nodded. "You have an appointment?" Becky asked carefully, putting his apple fritter on a plate and placing it in front of him. "Yes - finally," he said. "I've been trying to get in there forever. I don't know where they've been getting their thread, but we finally have dyes that will not penetrate and degrade silk fiber, but encase it and actually make it stronger. Doughnut People, I AM SO STOKED!" Chip laughed and refilled his coffee (and Becky slipped him a blueberry glazed on the house). "Good luck!" they called out to him when he left. "He doesn't know," Becky whispered, cleaning up. "No, and maybe that's best," Chip responded. "Arachne ... the giant spiders ...," Becky started, but Chip shushed her. "What if they don't care about the dye? What if they're just hungry?" "Don't let your mind go there or you will never sleep again," Chip said sternly, reaching over to give her a hug. "They weave the fabric of society; just tell yourself that it's going to get stronger and more colorful now. Whatever has to happen to make that a thing is ... basically good." She nodded, quickly putting the salesman's plate, cup, and utensils in the dishwasher and wiping the counter down (as if he'd never existed).