it was a real fight at first.
but yesterday, i finally caught the little beast. i caged it in an empty glass on my bedside table, taped the edges and then i watched it die a horrible, crippling death.
it flew around a lot, observing the now strangely distorted world, repeatedly bumping into the glass barrier. but it seemed to be fine. a fly don’t care that much about anything, does it? sometimes it cleaned itself before take-off. that didn’t help.
maybe crawling up the glass would? but no.
i decided it was time for breakfast or dinner or some kind of meal. but when i opened the fridge, there was nothing inside except old mustard and some rotten cheese. flies’ feed.
so i closed it, again and went back to bed.
all the while, the fly made nice sounds
buzzing and bumping and sometimes falling off the glass.
and then at some point – i figured it got tired – it stopped wandering around.
instead, it just sat there, barely moving for hours. maybe it knew there was no escape.
maybe it was suffocating.
but it wasn’t dead, yet. it lived like that for another two days.
maybe that’s a way to say goodbye.
and one morning i woke up and looked over to my nightstand with the taped glass, when i heard an insistent vibration – loud and desperate – resonating through the stale air. the fly was lying on its back, fluttering with its wings, struggling with its tiny legs, all for nothing, and then it simply stopped.
all was quiet when – in some last attempt – it moved one leg, slowly, in a pedaling motion.
i tapped the glass a couple of times to make sure it was really dead.
well, it was. …so.
the scene did seem a little gross.
but i didn’t feel like ever getting up.
so, i just turned around, curled up in my covers
and then i stayed like that for another two days.