Of Pacts and Impacts

There I am, minding my own business.

I’m in my zone; on my bed, my laptop on my lap, the pillows behind me, cushion under my ankles, and the KEEP OUT sign hanging on my door. Yes, the sign that everyone ignores.

What am I doing? Researching bows, financial statements, arrowheads, recent exchange rate fluctuations, YouTube videos on dual sword wielding; with the exam coming up, I try to stay focused. And for legal purposes, note that I say ‘try’.

 I always use a mouse with my laptop. I’m still not used to the touchpad yet, and probably might never be. What you need to know for the purpose of this tale is that my right arm was resting on the bed next to me, and right hand was on the mouse.

I feel a tingly, tickly sensation just below my elbow. I ignore it. See, I’ve lived in this room for a few years, and I have over the months familiarized myself with its other inhabitants. It’s a dictatorship, yes; but it’s fair for all. Simple rule: stay out of my way and I won’t stomp you.

Come within reach and you will die. Crawl over my foot and you will die. Zip back and forth more than four times across the floor in plain view and you will die. The last would be especially personal since it would have made me get up from whatever I was doing and then have to settle back in again after it was done. Totally unnecessary for both parties concerned.

So there’s a tingly feeling on my arm, and I ignored it. Might be a mosquito, which I’ll kill in a while, or a fly, which I’m too lazy to chase after with the swatter. The tingling doesn’t stop, so I finally glance down.