There was a slip of light once that was let in.  Oh!  It was so beautiful.  It danced around the room, making shadows of a room unlit for years. 

 

Jennifer saw the silhouette of the coffee table and giggled as memories flooded her.  Reginald saw his old dolly.  The visitors just enjoyed the show of light in the darkness.  The motion of yellow amidst the fog, making gradations of space through time.

 

You, of course, embraced it.  “Light has matter, silly” you told me, and closed your eyes as you hugged and cuddled with it.  The two of you knotted like a shoelace or the heart of a koosh ball; squirming and laughing and … oh so bright. 

 

I took photographs, but didn’t want to interrupt.  I watched it light your cheeks from the inside when you kissed it, and moved stealthily trying to find the right angle.  You struck poses you thought might look good to your own posterity, and then went back to the wrestle and tussle of it all. 

 

You remember how long we did this?  You remember why it ended?

 

It stopped because someone taped the shaft shut … because light cannot stay in here forever, and eventually it must out.  Thank god my camera has a backlit screen so we can at least look at the pictures together now … it’s the only source of light left.