Chasing the Window Moth

I noticed a soft tapping sound right against the glass. A tiny pale moth was fluttering against the pane, casting a jittery little shadow on the painted wood. I climbed onto the low stool, stretched my front paws onto the sill, and leaned in close. My nose pressed gently against the cool surface... squeaking softly. Every time the moth fluttered upward, my head tilted with it. I didn't try to catch it, just watched its powdery wings whisper against the clear barrier until it drifted out into the garden.