As the last rays of the sun disperse across the cotton candy sky, a little beetle named Shelldon resides on a high-up branch of an oak tree. Dark wood carpeted the trunks and branches of the towering oak, appearing austere from afar, but bustling with lively chaos from within. Shelldon unsteadily scurries around his new branch, dismissing its instability. He has more important things to worry about right now.

Shelldon gathers a bundle of leaves from his branch in preparation for Brittany’s arrival. Distracted by his nervous thoughts, he bumps into a branch. This jolt of pain brings him back to the task at hand. He has to compete his leaf salad, clear the loose wood chips off the branch, and...there was something else…

With a gasp, Shelldon rushes to the locked dresser beside his sleeping leaf and pulls out his light-beam-maker to unlock the dresser beneath the fading sunlight. He puts on his prosthetic wings and rushes back to complete dinner, unknowingly leaving the light-beam-maker’s hot rays burning into the wood behind him. 

As Shelldon puts the finishing touches on the leaf salad, he adjusts his wings properly and awaits his date’s arrival. I hope these fake wings impress her, Shelldon thinks to himself, she’s such a beautiful beetle. 

What seems like an eternity later, Shelldon hears a nasally, high-pitched voice at the edge of the branch. “I flew past five oak trees before I found this branch. This dinner better be worth my time.” Brittany barely spares a glance at Shelldon as she struts toward her meticulously-prepared leaf salad. 

While Shelldon tries to engage the female beetle in conversation about his collections, she appears uninterested, remarking, “This branch is an awful mess, and it smells like...smoke.” 

Shelldon’s eyes widen as he turns around and sees a fire where he left the light-beam-maker. His heart tremors as he realizes it separates him and the trunk. He does not have the luxury of wings as Brittany does. The fire grew closer, the heat radiating from it beginning to melt Shelldon’s wings. There is only one option: he will have to jump.

As he steps closer to the edge of the branch, his heart is beating out of his chest. He finally sums up the courage to take the plunge toward the ground, catching the look of disgust on Brittany’s face as she realizes the truth. 

Shelldon rapidly plummets to the ground, helplessly thrashing his appendages around in an attempt to delay the inevitable. But it does no good. He hits the ground with a thump and feels an instant sensation of pain course through his body. 

Looking up at several blurry tree branches, he watches Brittany fly away, muttering to herself, “I can’t believe this loser doesn’t even have wings. What a liar! I am never using Wingder again. Worst dating app ever!”

Shelldon, dazed and injured, sees a shooting star dance across the now darkened sky. Being a sentimental bug, he closes his eyes and focuses his fading energy on the star. I should have been honest with Brittany. And, more importantly, I should have been honest with myself. Then none of this would have ever happened. I should never try to lock away my true self.