Mrs. Henderson was wearing just the right shade of metallic lipstick that early morning as her head tilted at just the right angle as her neighbor's sunburnt lawn caught her eye. Every element aligned that day to turn the world's lights out. The light reflecting from every surface funnelled and pooled into a single beam that landed in the exact middle of Sally Winderfield's aboveground pool. As the last glimmer of light slipped into submersion Sally jolted from bed. Clutching her mother's enamelled mirror she thrashed to the pool's floor to return the light from where it came. She held the beam with bated breath and in the seconds she paused Mrs. Henderon's lipstick had faded; an amount slighter than slight but enough to prevent the light from returning.
Photo credit: Elle Moss