A Flickering Moth

A fluttering shadow tapped the side of the wooden storage box. A pale moth had dropped onto the concrete, beating its wings against the floor. I lunged instantly. My palms clamped down over the stone, but it fluttered through the gap between my fingers, spiraling up toward the balcony wall. It clung flat to the painted stucco under the warm sconce. I stopped my pursuit and held my ground, watching the fast, rhythmic tremble of its wings cast rapid dual shadows against the rough paint.