Nobody recognized her.

She was the tough girl,

The rough girl,

The badass, Do Not Touch Me girl.

She wore leather,

Chunky, heavy heels,

And pierced eyebrows

With fake eyelashes.

But when she wore pink,

She bowled the whole school over.

Her low-riders were on vacation,

The bra straps went back under.

She wore a jean jacket,

And her hair in a high bow,

But she chewed bubblegum

As she sauntered.

Her way through the hallway emptied,

Like Moses parting teens,

And she never cast a look

to any of those boring kids.

‘Cause the badass girl

Was wearing a skirt,

And her tough self was riding the wave.

Smooth silk tickled her ankles

In strappy black sandals

While her hips swayed and swished

To her class.

Her bubblegum cracked

As she opened the door,

When it closed, she looked back,

And she winked.

If you didn’t have money and you had to grow old and die somewhere, this was as fair a place as any. The staff was kind and attentive for the most part, and the place wasn’t exactly decorated, but you could bring almost anything of your own that you wanted, as long as it could fit in the 22x18ft room without giving the staff a problem. He’d seen people expire in worse.

David… David, that was his name. It had taken him longer to recall it today than it had yesterday. The effort was exhausting, but he didn’t move. He had nowhere to go.

Like a victorious king, a new insurgent swept into the room. The fly went on a cursory circuit about and between and over David’s things, at last deciding that they were beneath it. It landed on the window frame– directly in the path of David’s line of sight.

Bzzzzbzzz…

“Shut up,” David mutters belatedly. A beat, two, three, four, “Shut up! God-damned-blasted– Nurse!” With effort, he grasps for the call button, eyes searching wildly for the invader.

“Nurse! Nurse, there’s someone in my room! …Nurse!”

At last the old fellow’s eyes land on the insect, and he falls silent. He squints hard, trying to see it. “Little bastard,” he whispers hoarsely, spitting. “You… why are you here? How dare you come here? I suppose you think you’re smart. Breaking in on an old man. Making him feel insecure. Well, I am secure. I am. I am!” He stops for a moment, jaw waggling, trying to regain control of its spasms.

“You don’t know the half of it. What it’s like here. Surrounded by- by OLD people! Your hear me, Frank!? You’re OLD!”

The man shuffling his way down the corridor turns to look in the room. “So’re you,” he replies obstinately, with no patience for the other man’s shit. Resolutely, he continues his measured trundle.

David stares again at the wall, jaw working slowly. “Bloody-damned… you dunno what it’s like to be left somewhere, do you?” His gaze lands again on the fly. “Left here, all by yourself in this god forsaken hellhole. People always coddling you… they treat us like babies. Can’t walk… can’t talk… Can’t think! They treat us like we dunno how to think! Like we’re stupid! Like we like that! It’s- it’s damned insulting. You know that? I am… insulted. I’m… I’m damned… insulted. Being here. I am. I’m insulted…”

“How are you feeling Mr. Bennet?” a chipper woman comes in wearing the pink-rimmed pin of nursing home staff.

David mumbles incoherently.

“That’s good,” she smiles, taking the handles of his wheelchair. Her calm manner is coached to be soothing. “Come along, it’s time for your afternoon medicines anyway.”

The wheelchair squeaks every time the wheel turns, and, uninhibited, the fly does what he does best. He flies.