Three Seconds

I think I have three seconds left to live. Three seconds. That’s not very long. Hardly long enough to do anything really. I can’t imagine what I could even get done in that amount of time. I mean, I couldn’t get much done anyway. Wings aren’t good for much except flying. Mine aren’t even good for that. That’s the reason for the whole “three seconds” thing. Though, by now it’s probably two seconds. Boy, I’m thinking fast. Like, these are a lot of thoughts for a mayfly to have in three seconds. Who am I kidding? I’d be amazed if any mayfly has ever had this many thoughts in a whole lifetime. One second now. A single solitary second. What even is that? I think they’ll be sad for me. I really do. They’ll say I died young. They’ll say I lived a good life. A good, three-second-long life. They’ll say that the way I fell really showed what a free spirit I had. My free spirit isn’t helping me defy gravity though. This is it, I guess. Me and my free spirit have a date with the pavement. I wonder what I should say last. What should my last thought be? What intellectually-stirring quote should I be known for? I want my name to be remembered. I guess I need a name. A good name. A name that sounds strong and bold and reminds people of my heroism. Like, Danny. Yes, that’s it. Call me Danny.