It seemed that the storm raged on for hours. Branches and trees dance under the high winds, coating their leaves in acid rain. The lights inside flicker under a three eighths rhythm. I always thought it was just a faulty bulb. Until it wasn’t. One by one the house slowly shuts down, taking a rest in the rain from a year of hard work. First the lights, then the fridge, then the fan and finally the tv. The fireplace is electric, making it useless in this scenario. I light a candle to cut through the dark atmosphere, it smells of sugar plum fairy. I wouldn’t buy this scent again. I asked her to come closer as we shared stories near the dimly lit flame.
