Our World

"Our World"
by Adam Colston

As soon as I stepped into the terrace bar, I spotted her. She laughed at some joke the young man at her elbow was telling, and her teeth flashed in the candle light.

People milled around; the men were mostly watching her, but I found a spare seat at a table for one near the jazz-pianist. I sipped my Cabernet while I waited.

I’d had only two sips when, like a tiny aviator returning from a perilous mission, I heard the drone of mosquito’s wings. It landed on the back of my hand, its abdomen swollen with her blood. I nudged it towards the mole near my wrist. It seemed drowsy and unresponsive, but it dutifully sank its proboscis through the dark flesh and deposited the blood into the nanoic unit below.

A few seconds ticked past, and I shut my eyes while I waited for the results.

(Read the rest here.)