What if one day, when the shy sun hides behind the clouds, the boy moth feels courageous, and he leaves his shadowy attic and flutters into the green garden, seeking the fancy flower he had long admired through the attic window?
And what if after many mishaps, mischances, and misadventures he perches daintily on her petal and makes her acquaintance? Maybe she is a lonely flower, and his company will gladden her. With his fragile wings the boy moth can produce currents of air that will tickle her. Perchance she will even let him savour her fragrance.
But will the fancy flower enjoy the company of the boy moth for long?
Won’t she feel ashamed when the first butterfly flutters by? Won’t she shake the boy moth off, and pretend she never knew him?
And what if by then the sun bursts from the clouds?
Won’t the boy moth perish?
Of grief, of sunlight, and of love?