F. was spending a lonely summer afternoon at home. The windows were a bit opened. to let some air in, but not the heat of the road. The silence was almost absolute, since everybody were on holidays, and transmitted a sense of melancholy.
It was broken by the buzz of a fly. It was flying by and through. F. started to follow it with his eyes; this soft sound almost became his company. Then the fly bumped against the window glass. It recovered its way several times, but each time was there again, without succeeding  flying through the narrow slot between the two window shutters. At a moment, perhaps a bit stunned, it stopped. And started doing the usual things of flies: the rear paws passed on wings, the front paws over the head, like it was trying to recover from the bumping against the glass.
F. continued observing it with sympathy. It became his companion. Maybe, the fly was thinking: “what is there, preventing me to fly away, that I do not see ?”. Then it started again that strange game of take offs and impacts against the window.
F. was a bit sorry to let the friend go but, for its sake, he gently helped it out. The fly finally flew free, far, out of sight.
F. thought at the help given to a friend, without prejudices and counterparts. He felt to be on the side of nature, of the summer warmth, of the flight of the friend gone away, happy of his good action. Thinking again, however, he considered that after all he was not completely selfless: he received company from the fly and he was about to let it bump on the glass again and again, not to let it go.
And, after all, he behaved quite differently with this poor mosquito, the day before

A talk with a fly. Filippo D’Antuono, piudimille.com. All rights reserved