The Power Cut

The lights went out at nine, along with the fridge, the wifi and the lift. Kofi was halfway through a video call and found himself talking to a black screen. He swore, opened his door and found the corridor pitch dark except for a small circle of torchlight on the floor.

'Do you have any candles?' asked the torch.

It belonged to the woman from 4B, whom he had nodded at in the lift for two years and had never once spoken to. Her name, it turned out, was Liv. She had matches but no candles. He had candles but no matches. It seemed sensible to pool resources.

They sat on her living room floor surrounded by a dozen tea lights, eating the pizza she had ordered minutes before the storm, which had arrived cold and was somehow better for it. Outside, the wind rattled the windows and the whole city was dark.

Without screens, conversation came easily. She was a sound engineer. He taught swimming. They both loathed the building's management company with a passion that bordered on spiritual.

Around midnight the candles had burned low and Liv was sitting much closer than she had been at nine. She asked, very directly, whether he wanted to stay. He said yes, very directly, and they both laughed at how simple it was.

The power came back at four in the morning. Every light in the flat blazed on at once and the radio started playing at full volume. Liv groaned and pulled the duvet over both their heads.

'Leave it,' she said. 'Let's pretend it's still dark.'