Fly

I thought it'd gone yesterday, the fly, I thought it had gone out the window yesterday. You'd think whatever small part of their tiny brain that found the small hole in the screen coming in would be able to find it going out. I closed the window to the house, thinking that surely he (she? it?) would have gotten out by now. But I heard the desperate tink tink of a minuscule creature trapped, not understanding this prison it had brought upon itself. So I open it and it comes flying in, swarming rambunctiously around my living room lamps, careening toward the light hoping that it's at the end of the tunnel. And it is strange to connect with so small a thing.