E✦

Evening came to the lane with a borrowed lamp still lit, because the woman who had taken it did not trust the dark to keep a promise.

She set it on the step of the lender, who was already asleep, and waited long enough to see a moth choose the glass over the moon.

In the morning the lender found the lamp warm and the oil lower by a thumb. He did not ask who had returned it. He trimmed the wick and called that enough.

The moth was gone. The hand that had carried the light left only a print in the dust, and the dust was swept.