ARR 1988 - Flipbook - Page 126
had mercilessly snapped between my fingernails?
I raised the paper high and with a mighty whack dispatched my
thoughts. Sighing, I turned back to the apples and let the crumpled, stilltwitching fly fall to the ground. "You see?" I said aloud. "Flies as smart as
you cannot be allowed to breed. Else, where would we humans be?"
He seemed to plead to me with his huge, beautiful eyes.
"No" I said, "It is too late." His eyes assumed a deadened cast.
The once complex became simple. The moving legs stilled. Even to a
bird, the small puddle of sugar and ash that once had been a fluttering fly
now was in no special way different than the stones or light or water.
David Gay
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