The Moth

In my audio novel QUIET TIME, 15 year old Beatrice writes short stories. After an especially bad day at school she writes THE MOTH:

The Moth
By Beatrice Livingston, 14 September, 2018
There is a small gray city surrounded by a river that flows into itself. The river is the color of milk and ash. Beyond the river there is nothing.
In the city there is one light on. Dusk has fallen. The light comes from the middle of an apartment tower. It is a candle on a table. Around the candle and table sit two people whose skin is the color of the river they drink. One is a girl and the other is her father.
They are eating a meal of gray meat and water. They do not speak to each other for a long time until, to their surprise, a small moth lands in the middle of the table by the light.
“What is that?" asks the girl. “It’s a moth," says her father. “I’ve never seen anything like it," she says.
For a long time they watch the moth. It cleans its front legs and then walks a short distance and stops. It does not appear anxious or hurried. It does not fly too close to the flame.
"What does it do?" asks the girl. “It doesn’t do anything," says the father. "It flies, and eats, and looks for a mate. When it grows old or unfortunate, it dies." “Its life seems sad," says the girl to her father. “No sadder than ours," says the father. And then, with the bottom of the water glass, the man crushes the moth until it is dead. With a thin napkin the texture of plastic, he gently removes its body from the glass, walks to the window and releases it into the wind.
The body of the moth on the napkin swirls and rolls on the breeze between the towers and bridges of the city. In the last moments of the day the moth lands in the river. Floating briefly, it sinks below the surface and is gone.