A Glow on the Glass

I came back inside as dusk thickened, slipping past the warm hallway rug and climbing up the wooden radiator cover to reach the high window sill. A moth tapped against the outer pane, its wings fluttering against the cold glass. I stood perfectly still, watching the vibration blur under the warm streetlamp beam from outside. When it flapped away into the dark, I pressed my front paw against the smooth glass where it had landed, feeling only the cold slick surface and a faint smudge left behind.