So it has come to this; the last bee alive on earth. Watch as I turn my hand in the air and the bee follows it. A flowing motion for both of us. Watch as I lean in close, as if to speak to the bee, but say nothing as my mind is a blank. What does one say to the final bee? Summer. The day is very hot, over 100 degrees. I turn to go back into my house, and the last bee follows me like a happy dog. Perhaps I’ll call him Lewis.