THE BEETLE IN THE POOL - STORY 7 - CHAPTER 87

 When I arrived at the pool, I found a beetle crouched by it, touching the cold water. That insect with antennae and short legs, a black shell, and a heart of iron. Its expression was sad. Its drooping eyes hinted at some sorrow in its life. It could be about love, work, friendship—who knows? It was whistling an intense, high-pitched, mournful melody. There was a faint smell of old shoes. The weather wasn’t helping much either. The drizzle was insignificant. It didn’t wet you, but you could barely feel it on your skin. I said good evening, and it replied without looking at me. I approached slowly. It didn’t flinch. It remained absorbed by the ripples in the water as if it wanted to jump into the pool. At that moment, it decided to take off its shoes and socks and put its claws into the pool. It let out an intense scream. It hurt my ears. It said, "Get out, I don’t want friends." "No!" I said, "I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth." "What truth?" it replied, intrigued. "Were you the one who came into my house and bit my dog?" "Yes, it was me," it said, glaring at me with furious eyes. "Alright, I forgive you," I said without looking at it. "Thank you, sir," it responded, and then it submerged into the water, to the bottom of the pool, and never came out again.

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