"Isn't she beautiful? The way she stands there, commanding our attention yet when we stare at her, she seems flustered as a young girl would. Frozen, her image remains an eternal promise that the day will go away and no matter its gifts, she will be there to put them all to shame". The Moon is a short text that is actually part of a longer story that I'll work on, but this specific section seemed worthy to be published on its own since I believe it can do so on its own anyway.