The old lighthouse keeper, Elias, didn't mind the solitude; he had the stars and the rhythmic pulse of the tide for company. Every evening, he polished the great glass lens until it gleamed like a fallen moon.
One stormy Tuesday, a stray kitten appeared on the gallery, soaked and shivering. Elias tucked the creature into his thick wool sweater, sharing his tea and a bit of dried fish by the hearth. As the gale roared outside, the kitten purred against his chest. For the first time in forty years, the light atop the cliff wasn't the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.
