Departmental - Robert Frost
An ant on the tablecloth ran into a dormant moth of many times his size. He showed not the least surprise. His business wasn't with such. He gave it scarcely a touch, and was off on his duty run. Yet if he encountered one of the hive's enquiry squad whose work is to find out God and the nature of time and space, he would put him on to the case. Ants are a curious race; one crossing with hurried tread the body of one of their dead isn't given a moment's arrest - seems not even impressed.
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