power out. there are 137 candles in the house, i counted them in the dark and lit twelve of them, mostly the short ones, and put them in glasses, just in case the walls came down and the wind came in to blow them out. i didn't want to be in the dark again. feebi slept through it all, you can't hear the power go out and her senses are age dulled and complacent. shadows of mother's plants shirk the flame as i move around the house: getting water, looking outside (the whole neighborhood out), finding my book...

we are only in the dark for an hour. everything is louder, i can hear the whole house. a candle gutters in the living room, the pear tree grates against the wall comfortably. i read like the dead, if the dead can read. if the dead can read, then i died in the dark, reading.