Cricket

Something flew across the room like a shooting star. It turned out to be a cricket (pale gold, with long tenuous antennae) which sprang across the room when I reached for it. It latched onto my roommate's pants, and kept springing away from my hands. Up, down, onto the floor! I finally caught it in cupped hands. The antennae and legs tickled like whiskers. . .

(Writing, I think again of the little cricket fluttering and bouncing against my palms and fingers. It is so dark in this little skin-cave. Is he terrified? curious? exhilarated?)

His tiny feet and graceful antennae brushed my skin as he flitted back and forth like a caged fairy. My roommate and I ran giggling through the hallway. Just as I thought I couldn't bear the tickling any longer, I tossed the cricket over the railing, down the stairs. Again, he fell like a small star.

As the door slammed shut, the stairwell behind us filled with chirping.