The dance called shiver and shake Takes over my cold, frail limbs This old cabin creeks with the wind songs But outside, there is only silence. I am alone in Black Forest Afraid of my own shadow A glass of mother Russia To keep me company. I build myself a fire The flames feel like a warm hug I stare at the colors— Orange, red, blue at the core. The wood crackled And that’s when I heard it. What started as a whisper, Repeating over and over: “Last one to die, please turn out the light” “Last one to die, please turn out the light” A call to action I leaned in, watching the flames move erratically. The whisper grew louder Until it was all I could hear. The voice felt close and distant all at once. “Last one to die, please turn out the light”