The Terrible Responsibility of Trust

This is a picture of a fly on the outside of the window of my loft three years ago. I lived on the 5th floor—pretty high up—and after I took this picture, I thought I heard a tiny voice saying, "help me . . . " so I said to it, "It's OK. You're a fly. Just let go." Then I imagined it saying, "Oh. Oh yeah." I turned away, and when I looked back, it was gone.

 Later, I was walking from my building and saw it lying dead on the sidewalk.

I heard a tiny voice saying, "help me . . . "