I only noticed it by chance, in the candle light when the electric failed. It failed often, without reason. But I grew to like my candles.
I studied the mark intensely and hazard a guess it was a burn. A burn so bright it lit up the night sky. I framed my mark. It glowed in the dark.
Curiosity got the better of me. I looked up my mark in the archive. It was the only mark that survived. They all perished. Electric fault they concluded. Rebuilt they demanded.
I cry when I see my mark. The only reminder.
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