The Moonlight's Ray

The dark clouds boded ill for the window watcher who had become accustom to the sun. It felt like a slap—a sudden painful shock—and sent her mind down a trail of curious, tumbling thoughts that were not helpful. For they, too, were dark, menacing things.

            The rain came down in torrents soon after, and the sky seemed ever darker; a hopeless mass of escapeless presence that pressed hard and long until the light faded altogether, and it was impossible to distinguish clouds from rain from night.

            The darkness pressed too hard, perhaps, for as the watcher looked with dreary eyes, a single ray broke through.

            And though the sun had gone to bed, and it had long since been night, the beam of moonlight was enough to restore her world to rights.

            For even the smallest kind of light was enough.

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