I was writing a Western at a table in a dive bar.
A Western was playing on TV.
In the distance, men were talking about the conspiracy to remove monuments of Confederate heroes.
I did not get up and go over to inform them that these are moments to losers and traitors and America is the only nation in the history of the world that erects moments to losers and traitors. There is no other.
A bumble bee flew in the open door and quickly found itself trapped on the sill 18 inches away from me and banging against the glass.
I found some paper, rigged up a container, and scooted the bee inside.
I walked outside and released the bee into the air, and it bumbled away to pollinate some plant that we need to survive, either food or flower. We damn well need both.
I returned to my table and went back to the Western.
I put the bumble bee in the story.