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Fourteen Days of a Fruit Fly MAG
The man on the corner told me we are to die shortly after we are born. His eyes were worn with the lapse of time and hardship; his lips chapped from harsh days and frigid nights. I dropped a coin in his rusted can. He shook his head in raw acceptance of what he did not want, but needed.
The little girl pressed her face against the mesh metal fence. I studied her. She looked directly at me and smiled. The smile went as easily as it had come. She told me that every day after this one will be exactly the same, and we will wane until we are nothing. She was not aged in years, but in something equally as powerful.
My mother nodded and walked away from the long, straight lines of stone. Her eyes were lined with moisture from tears that drowned something inside. She told me that tomorrow isn’t always there, but today is.
The taxi screeched to a halt at my feet. I opened the door cautiously and the man asked where I wanted to go. I told him I wasn’t sure. He said I could go anywhere, for a price.
I shoved piles of dirty clothes into the washer. I hardly ever do my wash. The lady in the laundromat said the colors had to be separated from the whites. But I didn’t know why.
The old woman tapped my shoulder with her creased finger. I revolved in my solitary orbit to face her. She interrogated me on what I would be when I grew up. I told her I didn’t know. She responded that, for a suspended moment, possibilities are endless. After that moment, all is lost.
My sister kicked me sharply in my left shin. The agony spread through my entire limb and it went numb. She told me that pain is a part of everything, and everything is painful.
My best friend ran away. I tried to catch her but my unpracticed feet stumbled. I attempted flight without wings to carry me. She told me that life is a test. She raves that distance and time are the ultimate tests of love. Will I pass?
The teacher in the front slammed his pointer against the green blackboard. He screamed for me to pay attention and then assigned me detention. He told me my world is not my own.
The lady in the detention room directed me to take my seat. She told me to take what is given.
The delinquent next to me cursed in dismay as he cut his finger with the knife he was using to carve his initials in the desk. He told me to leave my mark on the world.
My father sighed, weary from monotonous hours. He told me life is hard and to make a life of what you love. Happiness, said he, is priceless.
My seventh husband filed for divorce. I didn’t sign a prenuptual agreement, thinking that today was forever. He told me to live in the present, but always think for the future.
The judge said I should have been smarter.
My cat settled onto my lap with the utmost of pleasure. She told me not to think too hard or too long about any one thing.
The coach stood silently watching as I ran along the winding path in the cold sleet. Not a word flowed from his solemn mouth. He told me that if I didn’t believe in myself, other people wouldn’t either.
The doctor told me I was dying. He said I’d be dead in six months, prescribing an apple a day.
The mortician commented that I look good in purple eye shadow, but that I am rather pale. She told me to try some more blush on the cheeks. Of course, I didn’t hear her.
Yet I heard everything at first. Then I told myself it was time to live. By then it was too late.
A fruit fly buzzed around my corpse. I thought it was looking for a meal, but instead it landed on my nose and stared directly into my eyes. It told me I was lucky because I lived so long and had so many chances. It said that every moment of life is precious, and I am fortunate to have had so many moments. A fruit fly lives for fourteen days, and then it is gone.