Last night I saved a moth from drowning

I take a moment to glance down at my drink and see it there. Slowly it comes into focus. A winged creature. A small moth. Floating across the top of my water. Legs akimbo and whirring rapidly as it attempts to free itself. Its wings are fanned out, trapped by the water. I dip my finger in gently to retrieve it from the glass. It rests lightly on my fingertip, then flips, flicks its wings and propels off into the night. The only reminder a small dusting, like ash, left by its buttery wings on my skin.

His voice drags me back to the matter at hand.

'You're not even listening to me are you?'

My eyes flick from him back to the night outside.

Elaine Mead was born in London and currently resides in Hobart, Tasmania. She has a penchant for all thing flash fiction and micro fiction and relishes the challenge of saying many things with as few words as possible. coffeeandbooks.co