The Fly

I woke up on my bed a few days after my wife died. I was staring at the ceiling when I noticed a fly. It was there. Not moving. Looking down at me. I stared at it for hours. Finally, I couldn’t take imagining all those hundreds, thousands of alien eyes staring back at me. Judging me. I got a ladder so I can reach it and swat it. But as I got closer…
It wasn’t a fly.
It was a piece of my wife’s brains.
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