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!"
The Man Who Ate His Own Head
23 hours ago