Re: Picking up birds that are dead at night

She didn't want to do it; she could not shake visions of shiny beetles scurrying out over her wrists, scared into escaping — or the thought of phosphorescent-seeming worms, puffy larvae, squirming ever so slightly, soft under her fingers.

B. would tell her this: "Girl, the things you can't see you might not even feel, and in either case, it washes off."