A Ludicrous Determination

Out of sorts, M. settles in his local coffee shop. He has failed to exercise again. He has failed to take up his dictionary again, for he is supposed to be learning a useful foreign language. Again he has failed to deal with his laundry. All of them - mere functions in life. He stares at the vast mirror (it covers one complete wall of this coffee-shop) avoids his own reflection and focuses instead on the narrow back of the proprietor whom he knows only as an acquaintance.

A fly settles on his forearm. It is very small, black, and it remains quite still. What is it doing? Feeding off his moisture? Hugely angry with his general inadequacy and with his general failings within the most mundane tasks (such as this need to somehow get fit) he determines - he vows - to make no attempt at all to get rid of this insect, to 'wait it out'. He will not lose to the demands of another. "Iwinyoulose". He will leave this arm perfectly still until the dull creature moves on about its existence of its own accord.

Of course he soon tires of staring at it, and the hours pass. The fly remains immobile and M. will not, will not, go back on his decision again. The waitresses press him to buy more coffee. He calls over the friendly proprietor and tells him everything. M. adopts an intelligent manner for he is aware that his behaviour can be construed as neurotic. And so now everyone knows. The proprietor allows him to sit there immobile, forearm flat upon his coffee-shop table, all the night long, although the man had at first lingered by the glass door and looked in after he had turned off all the switches, just in case the fly had chosen that exact moment to ascend. For a second and a third day M. sits there. After which time M. is seriously ill and the waitresses contemptuous of him. Has the fly died? - M. wonders about that more than anything else. For if it has, then this can never be an achievement: but should he give it even a tiny nudge to find out, and should it then fly off, Ah this would certainly be yet another failure to add to the list wouldn't it.

In the end, seemingly driven to an exasperation, one of the waitresses walks quite boldly up to M. while his head lolls almost unconscious, and smacks her hand down on the fly squashing the insect into a flat disc. And thus is M. denied even this pointless success.