One Photo for the Night Moth

Jolanta worked the night shift in the hospital laundry. The room was long and low and always warm. Big machines hummed along one wall. White sheets hung in rows from the ceiling. They looked like sails.

Her work partner was Konrad. He was young and thin and talked very little. He folded towels fast and neatly, one on top of the other. Jolanta liked working beside him. They did not need many words.

Every night at about three, a moth came. It was pale and big. It flew in through the loading door. It always landed on the grill above dryer nine. The warm air came out there. There it sat for an hour with its wings open.

Jolanta loved the moth. She never told anyone at first. Then she told Konrad, and he only nodded. After that, they both looked up at three o'clock.

One night, Jolanta brought news. "My daughter wants to see it," she said. "She is on the children's ward. She broke her leg last week. She cannot sleep. She asks me every night what I do at work."

"What do you tell her?" asked Konrad.

"That I fold sheets," said Jolanta. "It sounds so boring. I want to show her the moth."

Konrad stopped folding. "Take a photo."

"My phone is broken," said Jolanta. "The screen is black."

Konrad was quiet. Then he opened his bag and took out a small grey camera. He held it for a moment before he gave it to her. "Use mine," he said. "But there is a problem. The memory is nearly full. It says one photo left."

"One photo?" said Jolanta. She looked at the little screen. "What is on it?"

"My trip to the mountains," said Konrad. "They are not saved anywhere else. Please, only one photo."

Jolanta understood. She held the camera very carefully, like a glass cup. "I will be careful," she said.

At ten to three, they stood by dryer nine and waited. The machine hummed. The warm air moved the sheets. The whole room seemed to breathe. Jolanta's hands were wet with sweat.

At three o'clock exactly, the moth came. It flew in a soft circle under the lights. Then it landed on the grill and opened its wings.

"Now," whispered Konrad.

Jolanta lifted the camera. She pressed the button. A hard white flash filled the room. The moth jumped up and flew away in fright. It went round the room twice, then out the loading door.

Jolanta looked at the screen. The photo showed a bright white blur. There was a piece of the grill in the corner. There was no moth. The little number in the corner said zero.

"Oh, no," she said. Her voice was very small.

Konrad took the camera and looked at the blur. For a long time he said nothing. Then he pressed a button on the back. "Delete," said the screen. "Delete this photo?"

"What are you doing?" said Jolanta.

"It is only a blur," said Konrad. "Now the camera has room for one more." He pressed yes. The number on the screen changed. One left.

"Thank you," said Jolanta. She wanted to say more, but she did not know how.

"The moth will come back," he said. "Tomorrow, you must do it differently."

The next night, they planned together. Konrad thought about the problem all day. He told Jolanta his idea while they folded the first sheets. "The flash scared it," he said. "So no flash."

"But the room is dim," said Jolanta. "The photo will be dark."

"Then we stay still. We use the light that is already here." Konrad pointed at the small window in the dryer door. A warm yellow glow came from inside it. Above it, the green sign for the exit shone softly.

They put a stack of folded towels beside the dryer. The stack was just the right height. Konrad turned off the flash. He set the camera on the top towel. He pointed it at the grill. Then he stepped back.

"The camera shakes if you hold it," he said. "On the towels, it sits still."

"And how do I take the photo?" asked Jolanta.

"You press it very softly, with one finger. And you don't breathe."

At three o'clock, the moth came again. It flew its soft circle, as before, and landed on the grill. Its wings opened slowly, one then the other. They shone a little in the yellow light.

Jolanta got down on her knees beside the towels. She did not move. She did not breathe. Behind her, she could feel Konrad doing the same. The machines hummed and the sheets moved. Very gently, she pressed the button with one finger.

There was no flash, only a small click. The moth stayed where it was. It closed its wings once and opened them again.

This time Jolanta felt her eyes fill with tears. The photo was a little dark, but clear. In the middle, a white moth sat on a grey grill. A warm yellow light shone below it like a tiny lamp.

"It is perfect," she whispered.

"It is," said Konrad. He looked at the screen for a long time. Then he gave a rare, shy smile. "Show your daughter in the morning."

"What do I tell her?" asked Jolanta.

"Tell her the moth works nights too," said Konrad.