I dreamed the hive was listening to me

I was standing at the edge of a field, and the bees weren’t flying—they were just… waiting. Not in a swarm, not in panic, but like they’d been holding their breath for years. I said something stupid, like 'I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,' and the air cracked open with a hum so low it vibrated through my molars. Then the queen—she wasn’t a queen, really, just a shadow with wings—looked up and blinked once. And I knew, without knowing how, that she remembered every time I failed to check the brood. That I’d forgotten her name three winters back. The dream didn’t end. It just… paused. Like the hi