Dragonflies can’t walk. They can only stand.
I never feel sad for them. They can fly.
But I feel sad for him. He’s not struggling to escape my widow’s web.
Seeing his torn wing, I know he wasn’t caught. By some accident, he’s been doomed to a life of standing. He chose my web.
But I won’t let him die.
I help him out of the trap and carefully mend his wing.
We live quite comfortably together. I carry him so he feels what it’s like to walk, and he carries me so I feel what it’s like to fly.
Author’s Note: I recently read that most dragonflies can’t walk. Whether this is true or not seems to be the source of a bit of confusion, but I decided to write a story based on the assumption that it is true. Sorry if I’m wrong.
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