The "boss" cannot get over the grief of losing his son in the war, but one day after the visit of a friend who shares the same fate, he distractly plays with a fly landing on his desk in his office. He teases the fly by letting a drop of ink fall on it, then watches it struggle to get free. He repeats the exercise another time, then another, encouraging it on, but the fly eventually drowns and dies.
The fly represents man in his frailty, who is no equal match against fate, which always wins in the end. He realises, at least on a subconscious level, a certain absurdity and non-reason of existence. It is no one's fault his son died, it could not be helped; and the only thing he can do at present is accept his son's death and get on with his own life.
It is interesting that "the boss" promptly forgets what he was preoccupied with when interrupted. Perhaps this is the first step indeed towards inner healing.
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