The blackout arrived without warning, like a sentence left unfinished. At first there was irritation, the reaching for switches, the small anger of inconvenience. Then the dark settled, deliberate and patient. In its presence, rooms lost their certainty. Corners dissolved. Time loosened its grip. People spoke more carefully, as if their words might bruise in the dark. Old regrets surfaced without invitation. Someone admitted a fear they had never named aloud. Someone else listened without offering comfort, which felt kinder.

They yearned for the light but when it returned, they found it bright, accusing. It revealed dust, clutter, faces rearranged into politeness.