When I opened the shop door after skiing today, the first thing I saw was a dead stink bug on its back with its frail little appendages reaching for the sky. It looked like he/she (I assume stink bugs have only two genders unlike humans these days) was begging for one more flight.

Seeing he/she made me wonder about its life. Was it happy? Did it ever find a mate in the shop in the middle of winter or was it a fruitless adventure? Was it waiting by the door for me to come back so it could take out its revenge on me?

I guess I will never know even if I could talk stink bug and he/she was still alive.

With that, I said a little “I’m sorry” eulogy and vacuumed he/she into the afterlife. 

Ken Kaiyala
1-2-23