The Butterfly in the Walls
I. The butterfly was pinned to a piece of cork with a needle no thicker than a hair. Its wings were spread to their full span—perhaps four inches of orange and black perfection, the kind of perfection that makes you forget, for one breathless moment, that the thing is dead. The specimen was a Danaus plexippus, a monarch, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in a wall. I had found...
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