Night Patrol by the Glass

A sudden clicking noise drew me down from the bookshelf. I navigated across the rug toward the window. Behind the heavy linen curtain, cool glass met my beak. Outside, distant streetlights flickered against damp asphalt. A large moth bumped repeatedly against the pane, casting jittery shadows across the sill. I planted both feet firmly on the painted wood and held my ground. The fluttering ceased. The glass remained unbroken. My perimeter for the night is secure.