In a cloud, at night. Or like an army at sunrise. To every tree and every spike of grass, every ridgepole, every windowsill, they came. To every clothesline, especially. From the candy-coated wires, they formed strings—onions braided together by their tops—and we woke to find them swaying. Don’t open the door, we say to our daughter. Our daughter puts her hand on the knob, but the lock catches. Click. We imagine the chubby tips of her fingers nibbled down to their pin-thin bones. They’ll come … [Read more...] about The Moths Came