B

Today at work we were visited by a passing swarm of bees- I presume they had fallen from a truck, because they didnt know where they wanted to go. They hummed outside above the road, and we watched fascinated as the lost and confused bees followed passers-by. Most of whom, finding themselves the focus of a swarm's curiosity, screamed and ran, arms flapping, bees swirling above. I did pity the motorcyclist who rode through the heart of the swarm, snapping his visor shut too late and swerving to the side of the road.

I love honeybees. They're so inquisitive and, as a group, fairly smart. I went outside and let them assess me, their tiny feet and fuzzy bodies soft on my face and arms as they swarmed, gentle hugs letting me know that I was loved. (I would have been loved more if I was made of sugar, but the warmth was enough)

After a minute or two they found something else that took their attention (a slim woman in high heels and a low-cut dress, but boy could she run) and they left me to go back inside, grateful for the reminder that the world is a wonderful place, even if I dont feel it sometimes.