It didn’t take Brad long to detect the lack of air holes in the lid of the canister.
He buzzed his wings and flew to the top of the canister, just to make sure.
“Mark!” Brad buzzed. “You idiot!”
Brad wondered if there was enough air in the jar and had to face the nerve-racking knowledge that he had no idea. He immediately began to feel claustrophobic, despite the canister being immensely roomy for a creature as small as he had become.
He flew down to the floor of the canister and investigated the two bottle lids. After the obligatory sliming of the sugar crystals, he sucked up some of the sugary slurry and was at once relieved of some of his mounting concerns as his body reacted with absolute bliss. Worries were pushed aside as he fed, pumping his proboscis up and down in the sugar crystals lining the interior of the plastic bottle lid. He fed until he felt as full as a tick.
Back with his own thoughts once the diversion of feeding was alleviated, he began to worry again. Mark had forgotten to turn off the kitchen light, so due to Brad’s diurnal insect nature he didn’t feel the need to sleep as long as the artificial sun of the overhead light shone brightly.
But he also grew concerned. Would he use less air if he slept? How much air did he have left? If it had been biologically possible, he was certain he would have started hyperventilating.
He was able to gauge the passage of time somewhat by watching the distant kitchen windows. The bright panes grew darker as night fell outdoors.
Some time after dark, he began to feel sluggish. He estimated he had been trapped inside the glass confines for a couple of hours and found himself hoping Mark would return sooner rather than later.