I saw that my father had bought a kerosene lamp — I guessed he would use it when our electricity went out. I knew that he liked old-fashioned things and might find its antique shape and dim glow comforting. Moreover, he had no income — my mother worked at a hospital job — so he would appreciate the savings in electricity. He burned the lamp in the kitchen at night while he drank. I imagined the lamp was still glowing when he fell asleep at the table.
Contributor News: Lampblack by Thaddeus Rutowski in Carousel Magazine
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