Small, Sheltered by Smallness By Kong Yin Before the birth of the Virus, he was already inconspicuous, possessing nothing, not even a cell phone, days rambling among trees gazing at dew rolling off petals with his quiet eyes. Sometimes hiding behind grape leaves in wild vineyards, reading; unaware he was in turn being read by leaves, and flipped through by lonesome tree moss. Some eroded rocks well acquainted, showed him their secret wounds, long hidden. Virus pounced towards him, puffing and panting, displaying bare fangs, sharp claws motioning at his exposed throat. He awaits, motionless. Distant clouds reflecting in his eyes no fear clouding them. A wasp perching on his shoulder, mistaken for a branch. He didn't correct the error. The Virus frowned: is this a person or a tree? A tree! In unison many small voices sang out. Stamping her feet, the Virus turned in defeat and dashed away. | 
