by Mr. W
He sliced open the tape-sealed envelope with his pen knife and pulled out a thick clump of glossy photographs. Bees, he thought as he flipped through the photos, scanning each for but a second. Bees, more bees, endless bees. Dammit.
He struggled open an overflowing desk drawer and tamped the new batch of pictures into his collection. He was surprised by today’s failure. Not even photographs of the recently discovered anklyosaurus colony in Montana could stop him thinking about bees.
From the rocks glass in his left hand, heavy and full, he retracted his tongue and thoughtfully smoothed its hair-bearing rings of cartilage. Maybe he should cut back on the honey.