Escaped fruit flies from the genetics lab downstairs roam the halls of my workplace. An
undergraduate has been too stingy with the ether and the flies have flown groggily away. They love
rotting things and sometimes succumb to the heady allure of my Petri dishes. Some mornings I
unlock my lab to find a few bashing their love-struck mutant eyes against the dish lids. Here they
have fallen in love with a particular rotting mushroom, spurning the others nearby.