Sparkatale

I sat alone,
In the electric room.
Noise was everywhere,
And yet it was silent.

People ran.
They made demands.
They twitched and their fingers scratched the marble.
They frequently looked at the clock and furrowed their brows.
As though they expected
Its shadow to be an omen.
It was normal life.

Everyone’s eyes were glazed.
Their voices were plain mutters.

I looked into the light.
Minded my own business.
Didn’t talk to anyone, or look at anyone.
The light was too bright.
I’d been on too long
But I didn’t even realize it.

I just went on with my business.
I had important things to do.

I typed away in a single, long motion.
Then something came in
My way.
It obstructed
My view.
It was small,
Not capable of covering
A letter on my screen.

It was a black dot 

In the white light.

The dot hurt my eyes.

I blinked several times.
It only made the affect worse.
I looked away in agitation,
And rubbed my eyes.
Now when I looked back,
The light was painful.

This set me back
And would force me to turn down
The light.
This bothered me and my work.

I focused on the dot.
It crawled around on my screen.
A small bug.

Tiny wings,
More delicate than the thinnest paper.
Six small legs.
And antennae which 
Moved constantly, but slowly.

I followed it with my gaze.
Wondering why it would be there.
The room was cold,
I guess the light was warmer.
A bug couldn’t handle too much cold.

It scuttled around
As creatures would.
Followed its instincts
To find a way to keep itself alive.

I expected it to stop at some point.
To just stay on some spot to get warm.
So I waited to see if I was right.

And it did.
It stopped moving on the side of my screen.
It tried to soak up the heat.
Maybe it was because my eyes had been disrupted,
But it may have sunk down on its abdomen.
To get warmer more easily.

I wasn’t surprised,
Merely vindicated.
I pursed my lips.

It’s small antennae twitched around.
It felt the air and the screen. 
Maybe it was watching my movement.
Or maybe it was too focused on keeping warm,
As it would.
It wouldn’t notice me.

It simply sat there in the heat, 
The light.
It’s antennae were not as pointed as its legs.
More sensitive, made for feeling and sensation.
And through that, it understood what was happening
In the world around it.
The world which was so much larger than the bug.

A stranger walked past me.
Though he didn’t notice his shoes untied,
He saw the bug on my screen.
He stopped, and I glanced to him briefly.
With a twitch of his lip, his eyes glazed,
He reached down past me, into my personal space,
And crushed the bug with his thumb.
The stranger walked away.

I looked at my screen abruptly.
He may have broken it.
The liquid underneath was leveling, which was good.
I would’ve had to get another computer.

The bug was there.
Its body in pieces.
Its innards smeared over my screen in the slight thumb print of the stranger.
The legs were spread apart, some broken and others
Still connected to one another.
They were completely distorted.
Its antennae, which it used to feel the world around it,
Were mangled if not snapped apart. 
Its head was the only piece intact, but it was almost compressed.

I think an antenna twitched.

I looked at it a moment longer. 
I had to get a tissue from another table to wipe it away.

Then I went back to my important business.