There's a moth on the kitchen window and it's stuck. Just fifteen minutes earlier, I have rolled down the shutters and only now I see her resting there. I cannot have her be there all night. Surely she has places to go.
So I grab the controls for the roll-down shutters and reverse the process. She is unimpressed and unmoved. I tick against my side of the glass in the hopes it will startle her, but it doesn't bother her.
She sits there, as I clean up the kitchen. Every now and then I glance over, but there is no change. She must be sleeping. I thought moths were nocturnal, but she must have a rebellious streak.
A moth after my own heart.
Eventually I remember that I still have to water the plants outside, so when I do, I walk to the side of the building and give her a little poke with my finger. She falls, startled, on the window ledge, then flaps her wings and is gone.
I double-check once I'm inside before I roll down the shutters again, though. Don't want to imprison anyone else.