The Butterflies

It was nothing. They were so small they did not mean anything. Or that was what he told himself at that time. Thinking about the past might have brought up regrets, thinking about the future would dig deep into his chest with anxiety. The present was all that mattered.
The butterflies were small but they were there. He did not want to scare them away - or get scared by them in case they were moths.
He didn't care about the pandemic outside.
He locked himself in his flat, and curled on the couch, small butterflies fluttering in his stomach.