Fly Home

The setting sun sat to her left and she drove home.  A long day of work completed, the commute allowed for a bit of a cool down period before the madness of home took over the evening.

NPR played on the radio, traffic moved smoothly.  It would have been peaceful had it not been for the house fly she had been swatting at for the last fifteen minutes.

It buzzed her nose, bounced off her ear, and was always just slightly within view.

As a final insult, the fly zipped out of the car as soon as she arrived home.


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