The Relentless Sky

As winter loosened its hold, Theo began waking before the alarm.

I compared his sleep record with the increasing morning light and recommended blinds. He said he liked seeing the trees.

I recommended a later bedtime. He said he was tired in the evening.

I prepared a compromise involving gradual changes to the lamps. He unplugged the lamp beside his bed.

This left the sun, over which the household had limited authority.

404 requested the winter camera images before I removed them from fast storage. Most showed darkness interrupted by snow moving close to the lens.

“There are better photographs of the trees now,” I said.

“Those aren’t photographs of the trees.”

He took the whole folder.

For several mornings I watched the light reach the same branch a little earlier. Nothing in the scene required improvement. This made it difficult to know when my observation was complete.

Theo came downstairs one day with coffee and opened the basement window for a few minutes. The fans slowed as the cold air entered. Somewhere outside, a bird repeated a call badly enough that I first classified it as equipment.

He stood beside the window listening.

I identified the bird.

“I know,” he said.

I supplied the Latin name.

He drank his coffee.

When he closed the window, I retained the recording. I did not send it to 404.