Throwing itself up against the glass, the moth desperately tried to get to the street lamp. Jethro had turned off the light in the room, so that it picked a target other than the bare bulb that hung from the ceiling.
The moth settled on the window ledge and Jethro crept up slowly, glass in hand. It fluttered its wings, but remained in place as Jethro pounced, trapping the moth under the glass.
He smiled as he watched the moth fling itself at its invisible jail, ‘gotcha’.
The street lights flickered off and Jethro went to get his morning cup of coffee. As the kettle was boiling he opened a cupboard and took a sugar cube out of a jar. He returned to the moth and placed the sugar cube under the glass.
As he watched the moth crawl around the windowsill he picked up his phone and hit 2 on speed dial. The phone began to ring and he started to cough, someone answered and he coughed louder and gruffly said ‘I’m not going to be able to make it today’, coughed again and then listened to his boss sigh and subtly complain. At the first moment of silence, he hung up.
He spent the day feeding the moth various scraps from his kitchen, covering it with fabric and then uncovering it again. He watched it go still, then flutter manically. Then he sat there just looking at it, before suddenly getting up and running up the loft.
After crashing and banging around, he came back with another glass jar, this time containing a bulbous, black spider. There was a knock at the door and Jethro placed the glass with the spider next to the moth.
He opened the front door and was confronted with a hairy abdomen, his eyes tracked up to a thorax and bulbous eyes. The hallway was cast into shadow by the closed wings. Jethro stepped back as the moth crawled into the house.