She sits in the dark
clinging to wall spaces
where light switches used to matter.
The power's out.
He is her only light in a city turned black.
She fears the darkness.
It makes her skin curdle
like the warm milk sitting in the fridge.
The heat recedes slowly from the apartment.
He lights candles and brings her something to eat.
Her pulse steadys at the sound of his breathing,
but quickens as the winds thrash outside,
knocking trees, houses, people.
Inside isn't safe.
More often than not, danger draws her in,
but not now, not tonight, not with nature as a foe.
Her family has gone, evacuated with the rest of them.
So, she's alone, and
she sits in the dark,
with him.