(The sign reads: A wonder of technology, don’t use it.)
I work in a building that is protected by law from major changes like fixing up its many deficiencies. (That, sadly, is an architect’s prerogative, as incompetent as they may have been.) In my case, come fall, we get a fly plague. Flies crawl out from the many hidden cracks where they were born and try to leave the building. Sadly, they are already half-dead and usually don’t make it beyond my tea cup. It follows an annotated impression of this fall’s crop of flies, straight from the morgue.