Description

The Last Species of Fly In the quiet aftermath, the last fly lingers after the others have vanished, a resolute survivor. It buzzes as it flies through the empty room, its wings twitching like the summer's final echoes. It was once a part of a swarm, but now it is by itself, circling, looking, and resisting the inevitable. It now moves at a slower, less erratic pace, as if time has slowed it down. It taps against the glass as it lands on a windowsill, drawn by the light but unable to reach it. a final dance, a final rebellion against the growing stillness. The final fly is more than just an insect; it is also perseverance, a whisper of life clinging to silence. Soon, not even its sound will be heard, leaving only its agitated flight as a memory.