Home is atop three hills. The second is the steepest. The bus stops. Lights. Noise. And out I come. Seven O’clock is already dark. There is a power outage. The street looks strange and quiet. Silhouettes of trees are more noticeable. As I make my way up, the sky opens with cloud patches. The moon, a cowlick among the first stars. A shiver runs through my body. What am I afraid of?
The house is colder than outside. Dore curls under a mound of blankets. No, no dinner, couldn’t cook. No radio. No internet. I light a candle. It fills the room with a soft glow.
Night is for sleeping. Somehow I’m reminded. To bed. To bed!
