Jeff Has Left the Building

Well, he has either left or has died, and his little fly cadaver is lying somewhere I've not found. Either way, he hasn't buzzed me in more than twenty-four hours. That's so unlike him! Looking back on our life together, I recall how he used to land on my neck or leg and crawl around, tickling me and causing me to swat unplayfully at him, attempting to kill him. After I gave him a name, I could no longer bring myself to attempt slaughter, and would simply shoo him away.

I thought we would be together a long time, but it was not to be. It was less than a day later that he vanished from my life. Whither hast thou gone, Jeff? Are you buzzing freely among trees and flowers and alighting on rotting beast poo? Or is your lifeless husk secreted behind some couch cushion, or perhaps under an end table? RIP, Jeff, if dead you be, and if living, then fly-godspeed!