Mira sat up in bed and flipped the switch. Click. Nothing. She frowned at the window, where tiny stars pricked the black sky.
She climbed down and tiptoed to the window. Pressed her nose to the glass—cold. The night air smelled like rain.
A silver moth landed on the windowsill and fluttered its wings. Mira gasped. They shimmered like crushed pearl.
She reached out slowly. The moth hopped onto her finger. Mira smiled. It tickled.
Mira smiled and tiptoed back to bed. She tucked the blanket around her shoulders. The moonbeam watched over her pillow.
She closed her eyes and drifted into sleep. Peaceful at last. Outside, the stars blinked slowly.
The silver moth returned to the windowsill. It folded its wings and rested, watching the sleeping girl.
The moon smiled down through the window. The stars kept watch. And Mira dreamed of silver wings.
