6
Lori the Lost woke, and the light was still on. It was always on, hanging from a long green cable. It was not bright, and she had no trouble sleeping with it on. In fact, she needed it on—needed the faint illumination it brought to her little room. It would swing like a pendulum occasionally, some vibration from above sending it swaying. Then it would flicker and dim as it did now, like some death-row execution was being conducted somewhere on the floors above. Again she prayed this would not be the last flicker, that the light would not dim one final time in a fade to black, taking her with it. She did not think her sanity or flesh could take the darkness.
But that did not happen. The light flared up once again. She sighed at her reprieve and sat up in bed, careful not to dist
