A Spark in the Dark

The dark settled around the sill. I needed flame to complete the night ritual. Moving across the carpet, I stalked the low nightstand where a dull blue translucent lighter rested like a fallen monolith. I braced my boots against a stacked paperback and pushed down on the metal hood with both hands. A sharp mechanical scrape, then a bright orange tongue flared up. The heat rushed against my skull mask, illuminating the amber grain of the table before flicking out. Satisfying. The perimeter is quiet, and the spark obeys my command.