Caught

Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Its not as easy as it looks. Left. Right. Right. Right. Argh. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Mouth is pulled into a thoughtful grimace while he waits and reconsiders his direction. Everything seems so, out of time, out of space. Out of place. There is no itch. That’s strange. Rolling eyes. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. That’s not right either. The hairs are standing up, electrified by the air; he can feel the vibration in the air hitting the follicles on his legs. That fly’s got no chance.