Licking Off LightI was surprised to find that you were afraid of the dark. You of all people should have nothing to fear in it. But then again, I too was once aware of the eyes and teeth and hulking spines that could press into shadows. I have heard their slitherings, I have heard the gnashings of their teeth. I grew out of these things, and there was a day where I realized that they did not belong with me, like that day I found that I could touch my toes to the ground as I dangled from monkey bars.Licking Off Light7 years ago in Literature Submissions
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You never did.
Every night at eight, when the sun was beginning to slide off the expanse of the sky, you would turn on that one lightbulb, sitting like a final tooth in its socket on your desk. It was harsh and painful to the skin of my eyes. You would keep boxes of fresh bulbs under the sink.
One day, in your absence, I took the silken scarf from my head and laid it over the bulb. When you flicked the switch on, you realized what