i noticed that a tiny garden spider and a family of houseflys had moved into this room. i used to be alone here, but now the room was full of real activity. the spider had spun it's web in the darkly lit window and the flys were buzzing in the opposite window, on the other side of the room. the spider stood on guard at his window, waiting for flys, while the flys remained imprisoned at their window, clinging to the hope that they will one day escape the invisible barrier keeping them away from the sunlight beyond. i sat here in the middle.

every morning i'd approach the spider's window and i'd watch him waiting patiently. i'd stop to say hello, but he'd never catch any flys. they all stayed on their side. poor spider, he must be starving. i kept thinking he's sitting there crying, watching the flys across the way, mistaking their screams as laughter. he was here, and all the flys were over there. then i'd walk across the room to the fly's window. four or five would dance across the pane of the glass, buzzing like mad. maybe if they concentrated really hard, they could penetrate the glass and fly right through it. poor flys, your evolution didn't even conceive of the possibility of glass.

the next morning i had made up mind. i had to do something. i was in the middle. after my customary greeting to the spider, i went to the fly's window and cornered a little baby fly. after a little patience, i caught the fly by the wing, being careful not to tear it off. it buzzed and fought my grasp as valiantly as a fly could. i walked across the room and looked up at the spider and flicked the fly into his web. the spider pounced immediately. he twirled the fly around in his legs, quickly enveloping it with his silk. he took it back to the center and dug his fangs in. i watched with excitement as he fed on the tiny fly for the next 30 minutes until only a husk remained, which he then discarded from his web to the window sill below.

i followed this routine every morning for the next two weeks. say hello to the spider, catch a fly, give him the fly, watch him feast, then return to my desk. i caught only the smaller flys at first, because he couldn't handle the larger flys. the larger flys would either overpower the silk and escape, or they'd just be too big and he would drop them. but as the days went on, his abdomen grew bigger and the larger flys were easy to tackle now.

then one morning, i placed the fly gently into the web and as always, the spider sprung into action. but instead of attacking, he circled the fly, snipping the web around it. the fly fell to the window sill where it tossed and turned until it freed itself of the silk and flew away back to his own window. the buzz from the flys across the room was even louder now. they were cheering in jubilation of their brother's return. how strange i thought. i figured the spider must not have been hungry and returned to my seat.

the next morning i retrieved the spider another fly and again he snipped its chains and set it free. a great cheer arose from across the room. this happened for the next two weeks. the spider wasn't eating. he was resucing the flys. every morning i'd give him a fly and every morning he would save it. he was getting smaller and smaller everyday. he was starving again.

finally one morning, the spider was lying on his back on the window sill. he was dead. he had all but withered away, only a husk remained. he had killed himself. i walked across the room to the flys window and felt a light breeze against my face. the glass was gone. the flys were gone. they escaped.

and again, i was all alone in this room.