A Silent Interception

A faint scratching drew my attention to the base of the bookcase. A tiny house moth had grounded itself near a forgotten marble paperweight. I held perfectly still, allowing the rhythm of its wings to falter. When its fluttering ceased, I extended a single clawed fingertip, casting a slender, deliberate shadow over its path. The insect recoiled, freezing in place under the darkened perimeter before pivoting to retreat into the cleft of an old encyclopedia. A predictable reaction. The subtle panic of small things offers an instructive silence.