Jared stood within the limits of the lantern and watched the dark. The room was cold. His sweater was threadbare; it let in the chill. He sat down near the lantern, warm. His shadow cast onto the edge of light. The lantern’s reach edged away from the dark.
His head whipped up. Jared couldn’t remember how long he’d been asleep, but the perimeter of the lantern felt closer. He couldn’t remember falling asleep. With his fingers, he pulled his eyelids up. In his haste, he touched his eye. His hands flinched away from his face. He blinked, and it hurt. Good, sleep wouldn’t sneak up on him.
The lantern flickered.
Jared stood up. The dark was quiet. It was outside the light. Worm shapes crawled across its surface. A cold gust inflated his sweater. He wrapped his arms around himself and crouched. He raised a hand. His shadow groped for the worms.
Waking up on the floor, sprawled out, Jared felt his flight response. His left foot was next to the edge. He jumped to his feet. The dark bumped against the light, and the lantern’s flicker was steady. He trembled. The adrenaline faded, and his teeth stopped tingling.
He squatted down. The lantern ducked. Darkness was complete for a moment, and then the lantern relit. Jared watched the flame now. It danced its last dance—the jitterbug. The flame drifted out through the glass. The wick was red. Jared cried in the dark, watching the ember dim.
