I
Friday I panicked, took a step back, poked at the frog in her glass dome. She stood staring, wide-eyed, wanting the fly. I wanted to tell her no, no fly for you, honey, but held off. When I left she was excited with the not knowing.

II
Yes, some of this is fiction and some too much thought, and some wonder of the infinite possibilities the future can hold. It is just the bits worth articulating unless you want to hear about my mundane days. I often write the things left unsaid to loved ones gone. And sometimes the ambiguous you slips in and I address no one. But if you ask, I will tell you, more often than not my thoughts are of you.