What the Batteries Had Left

The parking garage stairwell, 9 PM,

and the flashlight on my phone

started doing that thing —

brightening, dimming,

brightening again,

a slow uneven breathing

I didn't know a phone could do.

I stood still.

Forty seconds, maybe.

The concrete pillars going in and out of yellow,

the circle of light

pulling back toward the center,

the edges going soft.

I've been in darker places.

I know that.

But there's something about a light that's trying —

that's losing ground and still trying —

I couldn't move.

It held.

Long enough to get to the car.

Long enough.