Light in the Mist

Staying cooped up inside all afternoon left me eager to stretch my legs, so I pushed through the front door onto the sheltered porch. Resting on a weathered wooden bench was a sturdy metal flashlight. Curious to see how it worked, I curled my fingers around the knurled grip and pressed the rubber switch with my thumb. With a sharp click, a bright beam of amber light cut through the gloom, turning the falling drizzle just beyond the eaves into a shower of floating silver sparks. Sweeping that steady cone of light across the damp railing felt remarkably satisfying in the quiet dark.