There was a sliver of light outside in the dark. He looked at it through the blinds; looked like a street lamp or something. It was too low to be the moon. Couldn’t have been a star. It shined. This small silvery light could be blocked out by his hand making it completely black inside his apartment. He decided to let the light in. Just stared at it.

He turned on the small light above the stove and put a kettle on for some tea. The light shined down on the grease filled burners and backsplash. Never cleaned it. That was always her job.

The burners turned orange then almost blue as the kettle whistled. He poured the hot water over a tea bag in a mug. Let it set and steep for awhile. Then went back to watching his light outside.

Dreams of her woke him up every night ’round two. She’d come to him and kiss his forehead. Maybe that light was her looking down on him. Maybe.

It stood still. Suspended in mid air. Surrounded by pitch black. Maybe it was a warning sign from God to clean up his act. Put the booze and the junk away. A shining light surrounded by pitch black.

And he sat there sipping his tea and honey. Looking at the light. He walked over to the window and pulled back the blinds. It was just another street light.

This world will fool ya, he whispered. Then he pulled down his shirt sleeves and went to sleep. She’d be visiting him soon.