By Lenna Larva
Before they knew it, a glance grew to a grove. The fruits were sweet, but could not be eaten. They would be cast out, punished.
“Is it punishment to leave together?”
“Stop. We must stay. Out there is nothing. There is no place for us.”
All was right as the fruits began to rot. The grove withered. The flies came in clouds, erasing each from vision of the other. For want of coming together, they each became alone.
The flies flew in their mouths, filling their lungs. They choked. Skin rippled. Bellies burst.
But neither was punished, and all was right.