Monday's Fiction in 58

Simply put, this is a challenge to write something with 58 words.

Butterfly
Out by the orchard, I find the biggest butterfly I’ve ever seen drying its wings. It’s slick from the cocoon, vulnerable.
Its wings are a patchwork of blues, blacks, golds. Rich, velvety.
As I reach a finger to touch, father protests.
“Don’t you dare,” he says. “Her wings have been dusted with magic.”
“Magic?”
“Mysteries of life, son.”