Leaning casually at the bus stop, an Empress in thick-heeled pumps scrolls through her phone, unaware of the snail beneath her. She lowers her foot slowly — effortless pressure, no force required — and the snail breaks apart completely under the solid weight of her heel. She feels it and glances down, momentarily surprised by the crushed fragments at her feet. But her concern isn’t the ruin below — it’s whether her soles are clean. She drags her heel lightly against the ground, wiping it off, and once satisfied, resumes waiting as if nothing ever happened.