I was so tired after a day at the passport office and my internship that I wouldn’t have noticed him if he was crawling up my neck.
I can’t remember what the first signs of him were. I was distracted by the breeze that only grew more soothing the more I sped up. The road was empty and the air was welcome relief from the warmth of the day. But suddenly I felt something on my arm.
I looked but found nothing. Then I felt like something leapt off my neck. In the light from the neon Deccan Herald sign on the opposite lane I realized I was covered in spider webs. When I stopped at a signal I started getting rid of the webs. When I’d finished blindly pawing at the air I realized another motorist had stopped next to me and wore a look of utter confusion. When he realized I was staring back at him, he panicked and sped off ignoring the red light.
It was only when traffic got thicker that I spotted him. Or her. A yellow little thing on my right rear view mirror. I was grateful for the lack of traffic. I was entranced and let it rest on the speed dial all the way home. What can I do but ask if you’ve ever seen a spider dance on glass in the light of streets?
He was an odd one, as beetles go. He buzzed a wasps buzz, upturned and kicking, his black belly exposed.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to disturb him. He buzzed along the paper, still unread. Face rested on two finger I drifted back to the days worry of monotony. I’m always lost without routine, nothing new gets done unless there’s some order about the rest of the day. But that’s when they started flying in.
Flies, the big see through wing kind that fly into wind shields. A few thumped against the window before flying in. They began buzzing around the room, five, eight, not more than eleven. I realized a video was still playing, the PC screen still glowing. They had stopped buzzing around the room and I wondered what they were doing in the city. I lent back, it was time to stop spending so much time with the PC, make a schedule perhaps.
The Beetle was gone and a lizard had sneaked down, gorging himself on the flies. One was caught in web of the resident spider who dances between the PC and the table, his wings gone. I spent the next few… minuets(?) telling myself that I should probably start writing. Nothing is new without the familiar, not even the see through wings on the floor.