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by L.B. Williams

We would wait for tomorrow. Our parents called us to come in when there were only spots of light humming. None of us wanted to
frighten the fly, so she always let him go quickly. They seemed to swim in her cupped hand. Leila was the best in catching fireflies.
All this happened before the big blackout. Years later my husband's ninety year old Aunt Lee told us that when her husband, Irving,
(he had quite a reputation for not being able to fix anything) put a bulb in the lamp and looked out the window with a view of the
entire Manhattan skyline, in that moment when the bulb was screwed in, Manhattan went entirely black. “Look Lee. Look what I've 
done,” he cried. Soon it was night everywhere. We used to gather just after sunset to catch fireflies.


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