Under a White Night

An old body alone in a room. A cigarette between his fingers — glowing, dim. His eyes on a dress, a white gown lit inside them. He turns his eyes to the sky. No stars. No moon. Only pale blue staring back. He drags the cigarette slow — watching the red fade. The dress slips from his lap. The bulb flickers once. Smoke fills the room. The gown holds no scent.