Today I saved a wasp's life.
I walked up the steps to the front door of my apartment and found it there, crawling on the inset glass face of the door, trapped inside the building. I knew that if I didn't lend him a hand, he'd spend the rest of the day crawling back and forth, buzzing and batting against the glass, unable to process the fact that an invisible wall was keeping him from the great outdoors, where dead things and spilled soda awaited him. As the day went on he'd get weaker and weaker, crawling ever slower, until even the miniscule grips of his feet could no longer hold him, and he would fall dead to the floor.
So I opened the door and held it for him as he slowly bumped along the glass, finally hitting the edge of the door and flying off. I wished him well, knowing that one day in the future I too would be lost and trapped, cut off from everything I know and slowly ebbing away, and on that day, this wasp would hear my call and come to me.
And he'll sting me, the nasty fucker.
Next wasp I see is dead.