The light closes with the door.
The power has gone out.
You feel your way to the switch.
Flick. Nothing happens.
Flick.
Your family sleeps, weary in the long winter evenings.
Your shower in the dark bathroom is cut short,
The warm water turning icy,
sliding cold past your skin.
You eat the dinner left for you by flashlight
In the quiet solitude.
An early night, perhaps?
It gazes mournfully at you, the sad strange night,
and you gaze back.
Your computer churns away, fumbling through the dark
for the router, looking for the world.
