A Flickering Moth

A tiny flutter caught the edge of my sight near the base of the drape. I lowered my belly against the warm floorboards, tracking a lone gray moth that had drifted down to rest on the hem of the fabric. With slow, measured pats of my soft front paws, I crept closer, pausing whenever its wings stirred. Just as I raised one paw to softly pin the hem in place, the moth darted up toward the windowpane, leaving behind a delicate trace of pale dust on the dark weave.