Better people by Ingrid Phaneuf

“Ah fuck it,” squeaked the snail as the life squished out of it. It had been on its way across the arch to the clematis stem on the other side. A nice juicy breakfast of leaves had been on the agenda. Now its formerly human consciousness attached itself to the body of a passing aphid, which rode a current of air onto an adjacent young hydrangea. “Danke,” it murmured and got about the business of eating.