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Please don't get too excited.

The other day, as I drove home from class, I realized there was a fly in my car. A tiny little fruit fly, not unlike the ones we studied once upon a time in high school biology lab. It was albino. He flew around for a bit as I drove out of the parking lot. A bit annoyed, I tried to wave him out the window. He would always fly back in and land on the dashboard. Finally, he landed on my finger. I moved my hand about, trying to get him to fly away. But he never budged. He sat on top of my knuckle and faced forward, looking out toward the road. I tried raising my hand to the open window, but he would walk down my arm until I brought my hand back inside the car. And he would face the road again.

So I let him drive with me, my ever vigilant fly buddy. During the trip he faced forward, unyielding in the face of the uncertain path. And in that moment, I connected with him. He wanted what I wanted: to move forward. To go somewhere. Somewhere new. To have an adventure. We continued our trip in respectful silence. Finally, we arrived home and I stepped out of the car. I raised my hand and he turned to look at me with his red eyes. "Good luck out there," I said. He nodded and flew away.

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