She caught a fly but did not swat it to death. Her expression was gentle, and she felt the feel of the tentacles crawling across her palms, and she smiled.
The fly hovered proudly above her head for a while, fluttering its wings and trying to fly away.
It flew gracefully, but hit an invisible glass-like barrier.
It fell off.
She wondered if it was fainting from hunger.
Still smiling, she spread the bread from the table around it.
The white crumbs looked like strange wreaths.
The cello in the CD plays leisurely.