Moth
The planchette’s heavier than a science book. Still, he pulls and pushes, YES NO GOODBYE, inching across endless numbers and letters where the moon and sun don’t exist. Only candles. Flickering questions. Hello? Are you okay? Things they never asked in the car after school. Heart beating. Things he can no longer share. How artificial light disorients a moth, tilting their back, causing them to flutter in circles. Trapped. How darkness could set them free.