Death of Lightbulb.

He lingered for only a moment, because even after all these years, he still remembered. Her face was unchanged, beautiful in its own way. The folds of black looked harsh against her delicate features.

People were eyeing him, perhaps made uncomfortable by his grief. There was a cough and someone behind him fidgeted. But he wasn’t finished. He couldn’t say goodbye. She couldn’t leave him, not like this.

He leaned down close to her, close enough to kiss. He let the words hang in the air between them, unspoken. Then he reached behind her head, and flicked the switch on.