Stranger Light
My husband is hoarding our lightbulbs. When this place was going to be our home, he replaced the greenish incandescent bulbs with ones like clean sunlight. Now I come home and he’s put them back in their boxes, swaddled in paper towels. They’re going to California with him.
He put the incandescent ones back, of course. He isn’t leaving me behind with nothing—just returning our home to a house, where I’ll live alone. Our white walls become lunar in the bulbs’ green glow. I lay in bed and listen to him pack, our ceiling above cratered with strange shadows.
Art Credit: Thomas Hawk
I enjoyed this. Well written
This is beautiful!
KARRIS-My fiancee fell in love with this story — she is now convinced there are two people on the planet who understand that there is no light but white light.
Thanks from both of us – A nice write
Whit