Roger hummed in for a landing on the lowest (and thus most difficult) platform. His translucent wings folded against his pressed suit as he entered, flicking his antennae politely at his coworkers and crouching in obeisance whenever a female passed by.
In the break room, Donald spooned honey absently into his coffee.
"What's the matter?" asked Roger.
Donald shook his head. "I've just been thinking, you know? About life. Biology. Thinking about finding a nice woman, finally having some kids."
Roger's antennae quivered in shock. "Don, I know things have been rough lately, but that's no reason to talk suicide!"
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3 comments:
That's pretty great-never thought of drones or a queen's mate from that perspective-love it!
It was an aspect of biology that really struck me as a young teenage male social maladroit who fully expected to die a virgin assuming he managed to avoid some sort of crippling psychosis.
nice. like it ^^
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