Day 37

Buzz starts, “It’s day 37. Everyone I’ve know has died. Everyone I’ve met. My kids, friends, family all dead. They all die, why haven’t I? How am I still alive!?

Riding along on this tram I look out at everyone I should never meet. I don’t want them to die too. They sit and stand, talking as if nothing is happening, as if time isn’t coming for us all. Well, them all.

Nothing seems to happen to me. I wake up I go about my day I try not to talk to anyone. I just go about my day I eat alone, drink alone, go home alone and sleep hoping not to wake. But no luck. Every day is the same beans just refried.”

“Dude, what is that buzzing in the background?” Martin asks

“Just some fly floating next to my mic.” Jose’s enormous hand sends Buzz out of the open window.

Buzz flew away feeling great because he had told his story. However, he told humans who generally did not speak fly. Dr. Terry Sinclair was the exception, she spent thirty years studying flies and their communication style, but she was not on the call so it just sounded like buzzing.

Published by Danton Lamar

I grew up in a country that thinks it is better than it is and left because I wanted to know if the rest of the world was as crazy. These are the writings of a man trying to stay sane I'll post a story or poem every Wednesday

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