I hate when my wife leaves the lights on.
Like clockwork, around nine o'clock, I go outside to close up the chicken coop and have a final smoke. And, like clockwork, I see her moving through the house, flicking on the lights in the kitchen, the living room, the library and finally the stairwell. She leaves the bedroom dark.
I come inside and shut off all the lights in turn. The kitchen, the living room, the library and the stairwell, and I join her in the dark.
I use to chide her sometimes. She'd tell me she was just checking the corners, making sure all was well before she laid down.
"That's what I'm here for." I'd say.
I don't bother anymore, I haven't said a word about the lights since she passed away two years ago.
Now when she leaves the lights on, I just quietly turn them off again and join her in the dark.
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