Sometimes at the end of the day, when she got home from work, she would not turn the lights on. She would let the day gradually darken into the evening which would shift into night.

She was up early in the day, the sun rising with her as she walked to work. The darkness followed her home when she finished her day. She had a little moment of sun, shining through her apartment windows like a beacon, before the shadows started to creep along her floor.

As she would prepare for the next day and then sit to read her book, she would wonder at the fact that she lived in the shadows, but time still remained eternal. She existed in darkness except for one true moment in her day.

She began her day in almost complete darkness, the lights outside lit her way as did the lights of the buildings. They kept the darkness at bay. She remained indoors for the day; there was just too much work to do.

However, it was as she was making her way through her building to get to her office that the sun chose to rise each day. This was her time.

It always happened at the same moment: she was walking across a glass bridge, windows on either side of her. She would stand there for a moment and look at the sun, rising on the water. Pink sky in morning, a sailors warning, pink sky at night, a sailor’s delight, she would think.

At home, after work, she kept the lights off and let the shadows linger, except for one light to read by. She would let the light fade. That one moment of brightness, that pure joy, was enough for her.

Both the light and the shadow brought comfort.

Sometimes at the end of the day, when she got home from work, she would not turn the lights on. She would let the day gradually darken into the evening which would shift into night.

She was up early in the day too, that the sun rose with her as she walked to work-and the darkness followed her home when she finished her day. She had a little moment of sun, shining through her apartment windows like a beacon, before the shadows started to creep along her floor.

As she would prepare for the next day and then sit with her book in her chair and read, that the passage of her day existed in shadows, but time still remained eternal. She went to work with the darkness and it would begin to waken after she had started her day.

She would hold the brightness inside of her for the day, the sight of that sunrise every morning, She began her day in almost complete darkness, the lights outside lit her way as did the lights of the buildings. It was as she was making her way through her building to get to her office that the sun chose to rise each day.

It always happened at the same moment: she was walking across a glass bridge, windows on either side of her. She would stand there for a moment and look out at the sun over the water. Pink sky in morning, a sailors warning, pink sky at night, a sailor’s delight, she would think.

At home, after work, she kept the lights off, let the shadows linger, except for one light to read by. She would let the light fade. That one moment of brightness, that pure joy, was enough for her.

It filled her for the day.