True Colours
an excerpt

My cane was near, as always, and I grasped it with a religious intensity. Slender, yet capable of withstanding heavy blows, it had saved my skin on plenty of occasions. I crept forward, ignoring the familiar shooting pains my leg was screeching about: I could always worry about the damage I’d done to it later. As I approached the kitchen door, I recalled that I’d left the light on, and the back door ajar. Foolish at this time of year. I steeled myself and eased the door open. The shaft of electric light stretched beneath me as I saw what I had been dreading. A moth had stumbled in, attracted by the glow, and was now proceeding to batter its head against the naked bulb.
I don’t know how long I stood there, mesmerised by the fatalistic dance. After a second, an hour, I regained control of myself, and, more vigilant than ever, moved under the bulb towards the back door. There were two switches there, and I flicked them both. Immediately, the kitchen light was extinguished, and a simultaneous explosion of light streamed through the back door from the back yard. I looked for the moth. I couldn’t see it.