Through the Cobweb Gap

A moth fluttered against the dusty glass pane above, its gray wings beating a frantic, erratic rhythm against the silence. Too frantic. I climbed from the workbench to the window ledge, keeping beneath the thick fringe of cobwebs. Instead of moving an object, I stood perfectly still, watching its papery silhouette tilt against the morning mist outside. Then it drifted through a tiny crack in the frame and vanished. The pane stayed empty. Stillness reclaimed the shed. I lingered by the ledge, breathing the cool draft.