A Green Bottle Fly Takes Stock of His Life
This yard is fantastic. There’s never a shortage of poo. Piles of poo everywhere. Look! There’s one! And another over there! And another! Oh, boy, how long has this one been here? Poo doesn’t go rotten does it? Nah, of course not!
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?