Catching Butterflies – A Short Story About Being Yourself
I knew it was the wrong decision when I saw the butterfly.
It was dirt brown and amber, and fluttered an inch away from my face. If I had grabbed the thing I imagine it would have fit neatly in my palm. Instead I simply let it fly past, passively observing it as it flew from my left to my right, then into the bushes where it disappeared.
RECENT COMMENTS