Most Likely to Overthink Everything
There's a tap at the window, but no one's there. Tap. I keep hearing it. Tap. It's something. No branches at the window, no passerbys I can see. Tap. But no letting up. Tap. I heard it again and looked up in time to see it. A bee, begging to be let in. Bugging me. Expecting the glass to just go away so it can enter. How strange, I thought as it hovered outside of my office, but then I went about my day. So when it happened the next day, I became uneasy. Tap. Ok, I was already a bit uneasy but I became more uncomfortable in my skin because, on top of everything else, a bee now seems to be beckoning me and is being quite stubborn about it. I already feel people watching me who aren't there outside my window and now I've got this dizzy bee to deal with?
Tap. Is there something I don't know that the bees know? Tap. It seems a bit desperate. Is it about honey, because I'm really not that sweet. Tap. Is it about money, because I really can't afford to share, so they're not going to have much luck there. There's not enough luck to go around here in generally lately, certainly none that I could spare. Tap. I'm not sure if it's related, but I have been smelling unusual cologne in the quiet pockets of my home. It's a lingering, unfamiliar musk. Is this what the bee is after? Tap. Now that I mention it, I've also been feeling quite frantic lately, buzzing around the house without a direction. Do they sense this about me? Tap. Ok, seriously. Am I crazy or what is this bee's deal and why is it so adamant about getting in? I wonder what it wants from me, or what it wants to tell me. Tap. Perhaps it's a messenger, busying about, whizzing through the air on paper thin wings, wailing its head into the paned glass on a mission to tell me something. But what? Tap, tap. It's been two days now and this bee has been incessantly banging at the same window. It wants in, but what if it stings?