I caught a moth.

I have a thin, slightly elastic, transparent plastic box that was once for containing fruit. Now I use it to temporarily shut insects in it. One day, when our dormitory room was filled with darkness except for some illumination at the room's entry, I noticed a moth fluttering and hovering to and fro in the light. My heart tended to beat a little fast and my hands trembled slightly as I took the box and approached the moth, and suddenly the moth flipped its wings more quickly for a sharp rise out of reach. I looked up and there was a short distance between the moth and the ceiling. When I was considering whether to leave it alone, it plunged unexpectedly. In the transitory instance when it landed on the wall and the position was low enough, I swiftly thrust the box onto the wall and carefully moved it to the wall's edge. I cautiously tilted the box a little to make a narrow gap and then abruptly pushed and inserted the lid into the gap. An obvious shiver spread in my palms and fingers and remained for a while. I put the box on my desk and saw it flying with lively and blazing vitality, with its wings moving fast and leaving vague afterimages. Yawning, I walked to the balcony. It was pitch dark outside and I heard loud gurgles of heavy rain pouring down. Successive rainy days filled this area with upsetting moisture. In the morning, the moth still seemed to be in a state as good as hours ago. I took the box to the corridor lit up by light-colored refreshing sunshine. It was cloudy but not dull and dim, and puddles were gradually dried by sunshine which regained its power. With the box in my hand, I reached out of the window, feeling the light vibrations of the box's walls and bottom when the moth was tapping the box. The vibrations were light but vigorous and perhaps eager. I used the other hand to remove the lid and inhaled abruptly meanwhile. The morning sunshine aroused and cleared everything outside and I watched the moth fly into the first fresh day after rain.