A gnat flew into my eye. The involuntarily blink that followed undoubtedly crushed her to bits. What must that final flight have seemed like? Such a delicately small insect crashing into the impossibly immense glass orb of my oblivious eyeball and then having two monstrous flesh panels slam closed from both above and below like giant, steel shutters of impossible weight. Perhaps she never saw the larger world around her. Perhaps it was too incomprehensibly vast to be taken in with her limited arthropod mind and her even more limited point of view. Perhaps, in seeing a gigantic eye so close, so fast, so grand, and so near the end she felt she was looking into eternity and seeing God at the other end.
Then I remembered that gnat’s eyes evolved in a completely different manner and so my human eye more probably was just some weird, reflective, kaleidoscopic alien landscape that came and went in, quite literally, the blink of an eye.
No, sir. I don’t think she got much out of it.
Originally published for 10 Magazine January 2015 issue.