A
dragonfly bounced softly against the peach walls, searching for a
place to land. Its thin wings, webbed with tiny veins, cast pale shadows
on the walls and furniture as it danced around the room.
Outside, a thin mist fell on the streets. A car door slammed shut and the hurried click of heels on the sidewalk echoed between the buildings. Another car drove by, tires splashing in a puddle. And then it was quiet again.
The dragonfly drifted away from the kitchen as the light flicked off. It floated to the ceiling, landing in a shadow created by a lamp. Its wings pulsed once, then twice before resting against the plaster ceiling.
Another light snapped off, leaving the apartment dark except for the dragonfly’s corner and an island of light around the couch. Sound rushed into the room, filling it was a discordant symphony of noise. Blue shadows flickered on the walls and ceiling. The dragonfly’s wings beat once again, creating small ripples of air in his corner of the room. They stilled slowly as he realized that, although the shadows changed constantly, creating new patterns of light and dark, they did not move closer. Content in his corner, the dragonfly rested.
A raspy wisp of noise, a slight sound that rose above the others, spread throughout the apartment. The sniffling started gradually, once in a while, and barely loud enough to move beyond the couch. It grew in frequency until the room was punctuated by the sounds. A spring on the couch creaked and the noise that had filled the apartment stopped. The blue shadows disappeared.
Cloth whispered over cloth and a blanket settled on the back of the couch. Ice clinked against the walls of a glass. The kitchen door swished shut and whisked open again. Another light turned off and the darkness crept a little closer to the dragonfly. A hall light turned on, then the light below the dragonfly disappeared.
The dragonfly waited until the footsteps stopped. It waited until the water started. Then, abandoning its position, it flew to the hall light. Settling on the wall, it nestled into a space at the juncture of the ceiling and the wall.
The water stopped. The bathroom door opened again and the light shut off. Alone, in the dark apartment, the dragonfly studied the bedroom door. A thin band of light circled it, easing between the cracks. The dragonfly studied it, but couldn’t figure out to get to it. He flew along the seam of the door, but there were no openings big enough to fit through. Alone, in the dark, the dragonfly beat against the wall, wondering what it was supposed to do now, now that the last of the light was almost gone.
A
puddle of light spilled on to the desk and dripped on the floor. It
formed rivulets around the chair and seeped on to the papers stacked
by the desk’s side. The light soaked the transcripts he was
supposed to be reviewing, but wasn’t. Instead of providing the
shadow of doubt, the lines of the words and numbers only alleviated
the expanse of white paper.