Still Life

The boy stares.

That twig! Did it just twitch?

He bends closer, peering at the sac dangling by a silken thread.

The dark line running down its vertical length: "Is it a crack?" he wonders.

Yes! and even as he watches, it widens, and he can detect movement within.

Taking the papery pod between his fingers, he presses gently with his thumbs, forcing the crack yet wider.

Too wide! Something falls, whispery, to the ground, something crumpled and gem-gloss wet. Something that

struggles, flutters feebly for but a moment, then stills.

Jeweled color and life fade and are gone.