A woman in business attire, dark skirt, white blouse, and exquisite accessories, occupied the bench. A coffee, placed on the bench at her side, sat forgotten as her phone took all her attention at the moment.
She registered the background noise of a fly buzzing past her head, one of numerous insects that marred her enjoyment of taking her morning break in the park near her office building. The noise grew fainter, however, and she took no other action, keeping her focus on her phone.
The fly, as it zipped past her head, saw itself reflected in one of the woman's large metallic earrings, polished to a shiny finish to provide a mirror. The blurry image showed a tiny dark body covered in bristly hairs, three pairs of legs tucked up against the furry abdomen. The insect remained aloft thanks to a continually beating pair of wings. The image mortified the tiny creature, which veered off from the awkward reminder of its current dilemma.
The fly's senses tingled with something like anticipation from the scent of milk and sugar, although something bitter in the background triggered an aversion in the insect. Brad, perhaps from his ritual of always starting off his days with a cup of coffee, cast the tie-breaker vote, convincing the fly to ignore its mild aversion to let him explore the towering disposable cup.
A hasty barista had dripped a smear of milk foam on the side of the cup. The fly alighted at a vertical angle and, after the obligatory vomit, sank its proboscis into the thin residue. Meagre fare, to be sure, but the insect immediately began to feel an improvement as the milk helped restore its fuel reserves. He had soon lapped up the available source of nutrients, but his body still needed much more.
He flew away from the side of the cup. An instant later, he made a landing on the flat surface of the lid snapped into place at the top of the cup. Oversized letters stamped into the plastic provided a warning: Caution contents are hot. The fly crawled over the plastic surface, zeroed onto a groove cut into the thin plastic that released an overwhelming aroma of milk and sugar blended with brewed coffee. Brad vetoed the fly's instinct, which was to plunge through the groove and explore inside the cup for the source of the tempting odor.
The close proximity of an abundance of sugar-infused milk maddened the little fly. He just needed to regain enough strength to get out of the park and face the challenge of flying home. The fly's instincts, conditioned to exploring dark, dank crevices for potential sources of food, battered against Brad's resolve.
Spindly legs carried him closer to the opening. His antennae, each covered with tiny sensilla hairs, registered the scent and sent one very direct and powerful message... food is close.
Finished with checking her phone, the woman spied the filthy pest crawling atop her coffee cup. She screamed and batted at the offensive bug with her hand, but in her eager attempt to swat away the fly she knocked the coffee cup off the bench and onto the paved walkway. The cup's contents spilled onto the pavement, forming convenient puddles.
The aggrieved woman stood, examined the mess, and stalked off to see if she could purchase a replacement coffee and still make it back to her office in time.
Brad, overjoyed by the woman's carelessness, flew back, swooped down and landed next to one of the puddles. The amount of milk and sweetener canceled out what would have ordinarily been the fly's strong aversion to the bitter coffee. His busy proboscis soon mopped up most of the chosen puddle. He got ready to move to another when...