She said she had brought the light, but the harder I stared through it, the less I was sure.

The warmth, the shimmer, the music held within it. It looked like light, but I knew it was a lie.

“Where did you get it?” I asked. She turned and gave her knowing smile, “From the sun, of course.”

Being able to see is such a gift, but also like the great proverb, something of a real curse.

The excitement was growing, the thought of the light returning was almost too much. That we might be able to thaw, come back from the cold, back from the doubt.

You can bathe yourself in knowledge. You can lose yourself inside a thought. The memory of heat, it crept in my mind like a snowflake, spreading out from the core, fractals forming, joyful, disarming.

But it was false, we were doomed to keep searching, keep hoping. Why was she lying, I thought, what purpose could it serve?