I am smoking a cigar, sipping wine, and listening to music. When I notice a speck of ash close to the ashtray, I try to pick it up with the tip of my index finger. It moves away. Not paying attention to what I am doing, I try again. The speck moves away one more time, and then it takes off. Only then I register that it is a tiny fly, which proceeds to circle under the lamp lighting the dining room table, and my mouth stretches into an appreciative smile. It is so tiny, I cannot but rejoice in its prowess. A while later I notice that it is back by the ashtray. The speck appears to appreciate my company, too.