The timer went off; Dana dismissed it. In the kitchen, she took the bag out of the tea. Earl Grey. About to take a sip, she paused and said, “No, it’s gloomy. Let’s have honey tonight.”
She grabbed a jar from the cupboard. It was the best thing for tea. She tried to twist the lid; it resisted. She held the jar close to her chest and bore down. It relented.
Dana scooped out some honey. She did not scoop out any honey. The jar was empty. Confusing; it was a new jar. She looked inside and saw something. It was too dark for details. She angled the opening towards the window and looked inside. There was a bee in the jar.
Stunned, Dana set the jar down and took a step back. “Not again.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to four before exhaling. She repeated the exercise until her heart beat slower.
She examined the jar again. The bee was still there. It wasn’t moving, so she nudged it with her spoon. The bee righted itself. Having no interest in a house bee, she carried the jar to the front door. Before she could take two steps, though, the bee woke and flew straight up.
It circled Dana’s head twice and flew into the next room. Flustered, Dana grabbed a fly swatter and followed it. She searched for it and spotted it on a picture frame across the room. The picture was of the tulip fields she had taken in Denmark with her sister. She went to brush away the bee.
It didn’t move, so she swiped again — nothing. She looked closer. The bee was a sticker, clinging to the glass. The stinger was pointing at her sister’s face, surrounded by tulips.
