My Only Friend

The bug in my eye speaks to me today. The pain is fierce. It's been lodged in a tear duct for months, only choosing now to communicate. I can feel it flitting around, testing its wings, preparing to depart. The activity of my only friend is compressing my eyeball, pulling me to the dirt and garbage. I screeched as it spoke to me in high-pitched chirps. "Forgive me," it says as it crawls and oozes slowly out. I saw it stretch its wings wide, drying the infectious slick from its back. My only friend flew away as I died watching.

 

 

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