Bees

Sometimes – amidst bouts of boredom – I let my mind wander into the future. There is a woman there, or at least the idea of one; I no longer bother myself with giving her flesh and blood.

And in these sessions I always end up asking the same question:

What will I mean to her, after she has decided to love me?

And then the question vanishes as swiftly as it appeared, like a passing honey bee on a warm Spring day.

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