The funny bee

Previously

…It wasn't a sneeze this time, but a sob. He’d tried so hard to be a good bee, to contribute, to belong. But his own body betrayed him at every turn. He was a walking, buzzing disaster zone. He wondered, in the quiet solitude of his cell, if there was any place for a bee like him in this world of pollen and perfection. He pulled his knees to his chest, the faint scent of his own sneeze still tickling his nose, and wondered if he’d ever stop being the hive’s accidental punchline. He closed his eyes, the image of Bartholomew’s smug face burned into his mind, and felt a flicker of something other than despair. A tiny spark of defiance. He would find a way. He had to.