|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Once a bee stung me right in the middle of my adams apple. It made me so angry that I chased madly after him. I was just catching up to him when he landed on his hive. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| I stood over him, sweat dripping from my angry brow. He was already dying. His mother came out, distraught, and cradled him in her arms. He gave everything... | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| ...and died in the softness of her buzzing... | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
