Nina Harisson felt butterflies in her stomach as she looked into Dante Ross's eyes on the pub terrace. The night had long settled upon the young, yet Nina still saw the blinding glow in the man's gaze. Time rushed on, but they were in no hurry. The butterflies, miraculously, underwent another metamorphosis; They turned into moths. Like moths devour fabric, different impulses tore the girl apart. Could Dante's glowing eyes illuminate the night once again? Would alcohol calm the moths? Or perhaps trigger another transformation?