Wires.

I like fixing things. I like how my fingers ache after hours of twisting nuts and bolts. I like the smell of grease that is so hard to wash off. I like when fixing something is a challenge. I like learning a new way to fix a thing. I like taking things apart and trying to remember how to put them back together. Entropy. I like making 10 trips to the hardware store to find the right part. I love trying for hours to get one small part to cooperate, and then finally getting it in line with dumb luck or brute force.

I like fixing things. Things. The key word.


Non-things cannot be fixed.

Fire Alarm.

I heard the fire alarm sound a few floors below me. I peaked my head into the hallway and a man passing by said "It'll be up here soon. If you go now you can catch the elevators before they cut off." I dug my backpack from underneath a towel and packed three things; my laptop, my cash, and

The Great Ohio Desert.

Your eyesight can be fixed with prescription lenses, but you cannot change how you see.

An Encounter With a Coccinellidae of Unknown Genus or Species

I sat in my car at a red light, music and windows down, listening to the hum and screech of the mechanical beasts on the hot pavement around me. A tickling sensation on the cuticle of my index finger brought attention to my left arm resting on the sill. I watched as the orange ladybug crawled listlessly up my giant finger. The green light beamed, forcing me to follow the heard of roaring beasts as they raced to the next red light. I held my left hand at my chest, not wanting the ladybug to be blown away by the turbulence of my open windows. The light tickle on my finger let me know she was still there until I came to rest at the next intersection and was able to observe her some more. She sat on my knuckle rubbing her face like her distant taxonomic cousin the Mantis. Her wing covers were a pale orange, and the four black dots on her back were pathetically shaped and unevenly distributed towards her right side, like they were painted on by a child. Traffic stampeded once more and she withdrew her legs inside her shell as the wind picked up and we moved towards the next intersection. At the next red light, I watched as she sniffed around on my finger like a blood hound on a trail. I'd never known a ladybug to bite, but I'm no stranger to betrayal. It was my hope that she wouldn't deem my flesh appetizing, though I knew it would not hurt if she did. She did not bite me, and her feet did not dig into my skin. She settled down near a freckle and continued to rub her face.

In the parking lot, the act of stepping out of my car seemed to agitate her. She crawled around my finger as I rotated my hand to keep her right side up. I walked over to a tree and bent down to pick up a pine leaf. With some coaxing, I got her to transfer to the leaf. I counted her dots once more and sat her down at the base of the tree. I noticed a line of marching ants on the tree trunk. I watched as she left the pine leaf I picked for her and climbed across the tops of the grass. As I walked away, I worried about that row of marching ants.