The Final Slat

I gripped the ribbed plastic wand dangling beside the bedroom window. With a slow, deliberate twist of my wrists, the horizontal blinds began to rotate in unison. Squeak... pause... turn. Each white aluminum blade tilted downward, slicing the amber glow of the streetlamp into thinner and thinner ribbons across the dark floorboards. I tilted my head, admiring how effortlessly the outside world could be severed into neat, obedient slivers. One final turn, and the remaining band of gold pinched shut with a soft snap. In the sudden pitch, I tapped a muted, two-beat rhythm against the glass. It is so comforting to know that darkness only requires an invitation.