Two Dots

Two dots. On a wall.

I don't think they are the same species.

One comma, two commas, blurry coma, warm bath.

One is not alive, I think.

Nothing can be this still for so long.

The other is approaching it, prancing, or is there friendship between dots?

Is it in agony, twitching? Is it jumping for joy of seeing their favorite dark spot in a world full of peril?

Is it naturally following unconscious motor functions and hasn't realized their fate yet?

Is it dawning on the other dot?

In humans, the signal from our optical nerves passes a section that's responsible for emotions before hitting the back of our skull where the brain is "seeing" the image. 

It's why you can sense someone is looking at you before you apperently see it. 

Why blind people can be scared from an image.

Or is it just 

Two dots. On a wall.

Humans pack bond with everything. I'll certainly do. Although I have stopped pack bonding with everyone. Took years for it to register.

The living dot never touches the dead dot. 

It minds the gap.

Surely it can't be hunting then. 

Maybe it can't even hunt.

Two dots. On a Wall.

Maybe it never even saw the other dot. Or never registered it. Humans can find a pattern in everything. From up close, I'm certainly not a dot, but human. Strange to write it out.

The living dot could just be orbiting the dead one.

Chaotic. Observing.

Neverminding the other.

Lovely observing.

Seing 20.000 flashlights in a dark forrest, all ilumating the faces of your heroes, loved ones, friends, friendly associates, homies.

Getting out of the bath, I can inspect the two dots closer.

The dead one disappeared. Maybe it was not there, maybe it was woodship wallpaper, being made dead from dramatic lighting.

The other is a miniscule spider.

Happy.