Moth

Spread mottled wings, a large hairy head laid flat upon the window glass clinging to a force-field. Up close, eyes as black as bat caves glimmer from the shine of a flashlight, but of themselves there is no glitter nor any gleam of being. An empty shell driven only by instinct? Antenna wave, search. The creature cannot possibly know what a human face is or even its own appearance in the glass. It cannot comprehend the import of what it sees - can it? Can I?