A Light for My Love
“Given the elegance of most of the other furniture in the house, this serviceable lamp was plain to the point of homeliness. Lacking even a hint of decoration, its chimney and base were clear glass, showing its wide ribbon of wick floating in the kerosene. She had others that were much prettier and more delicate of craftsmanship, made of milk glass and hand-painted with roses and forget-me-nots. But to China, no other lamp burned as bright, no other was as necessary. She patted her apron pocket ...to make sure she had matches, and heard the dock downstairs mark the quarter hour. Fifteen past ten. Usually she lit the wick right after sunset, but so much had happened today, she hadn't been able to get to it. Now it was late and everyone in the house had settled down for the night.
Everyone except Jake.
She extended her hands to lift the lamp's chimney, then paused. Pulling aside the lace curtain, she tried to see down to the street, looking for an approaching figure. The gas streetlight on the corner was a watery yellow orb in the mist, seemingly suspended high above the sidewalk with no post.MoreLess
Everyone except Jake.
She extended her hands to lift the lamp's chimney, then paused. Pulling aside the lace curtain, she tried to see down to the street, looking for an approaching figure. The gas streetlight on the corner was a watery yellow orb in the mist, seemingly suspended high above the sidewalk with no post.MoreLess
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