The Lamplighter finally rounded the last corner, catching sight of his modest home at a distance. But something was amiss.

The front door was hanging open. Had he left it that way? He couldn't remember much from the beginning of last night. Too many thoughts had crowded his head, and now that they had dispersed, only a few left memories.

He stepped over the threshold cautiously, eyes roving the room. It smelled of wet earth and wood.

The floor was wet and sprinkled with leaves. The dishes in the sink had tumbled about, most staying in the sink or on the counter, but a few had fallen to the floor. His small tin coffee cup was dented. He frowned.

Kian leaned down to pick it up when he caught sight of something else—shards of glass and splinters of wood. He gasped.

He carefully stepped over the fragments and the debris. He swallowed hard when he saw what he feared.

Darling's picture had fallen, and the frame had shattered.

He got to his knees and lifted the thin wood backing, pulling it out from the sides. The photo was alright, he noticed with relief. But the frame was simply not salvageable.

Darling had tenderly crafted that frame with her own hands. Now it was gone as well.

Kian held the photo to the light, letting it stream through the paper. He smiled sadly. She was far more beautiful than the sun ever was. His heart ached.

He grabbed the edge of his bed and rose, inhaling slowly. He froze as he caught a whiff of something he hadn't smelled in years.

He held the photo close to his face and sniffed. It was drenched in Darling's perfume.

Pressing the picture against his chest, Kian walked towards his cupboard. He stored many things inside, ranging from spare dishes to glue to woodworking materials. He threw the doors open, keen on his quarry. He spotted it quickly: Darling's toolbox. He grabbed it and carried it to his small table, setting it down with a thunk.

He had to take a deep breath before opening it, purely due to nerves. He hadn't touched the toolbox in years. But it was time.

Slowly he flipped the latch. Slowly he raised the lid. Slowly he released the breath he had been holding.

His eyes wandered over the chisels and knives and screws and dozens of other things, recalling Darling's hands using them. He lightly brushed his fingers over the tools. In his mind they were more than tools. They were Darling.

He swallowed, then took hold of one of the small saws. He grabbed a ruler and pencil as well. He pushed the contents of the box about as gently as he could, searching momentarily. Soon he found what he wanted—a rather tiny, rather chipped mallet. The nails he needed were right below it.

Once Kian had most of the assets required, he turned back to the cupboard. He recalled leaving some pieces of trim inside. He had needed to replace some woodwork along his floor a month or so ago, but had never found the time. A few moments later he found the trim, which he pulled out and set on the table as well.

Now that he had his materials in place, Kian set to measuring the trim out in four pieces, making two matching pairs. One pair was longer than the other. He cut angles on the end of each piece, then glued them together, forming a frame. He wanted to find some glass for it, but knew he wouldn't be able to. Especially not as small as he needed. He didn't have time to wait for the glass maker to make a custom piece.

Kian grabbed the thin wood back from the broken frame and carefully hammered small nails into it, attaching it to the front of the new frame. The photo was wedged between the back and front. It was a rather tight fit. He frowned, thinking of how Darling would have done it. He had picked up some things from watching her work (and from many enthusiastic discussions about what she was working on). He broke into a smile regardless. He suspected Darling would approve. At least, he hoped she would.

The Lamplighter hobbled to the side of his bed. He set the frame back on its proper shelf, making sure to push it back enough that it wouldn't fall off. He doubted it would, assuming no one forgot to close his door next time, but regardless he was careful.

He sighed, his gaze sweeping the room. The dishes were still dirty, the floor needed swept, water needed wicked off the floor, and half a dozen other household chores ached to be done. He was tempted to take a seat on his bed and rest, but he knew he would soon fall asleep. So he got back on his feet and set to work.

First he scrubbed the dishes. It was a rather quick task. Next he tossed the dishtowels down onto the puddles. In moments they had absorbed all the liquid. He tossed the sopping towels into the sink. After that he got a broom and swept the leaves, which he put into a sack and set outside.

Kian studied his small home, making sure all was in order. It seemed to be. Passably, at least.

He nodded with an air of finality. And with that he opened his top drawer and pulled out his Sunday best, changing into it.

Once he was dressed, he walked to the front door and opened it. He tugged at his suit lapels as he leaned against the door frame, staring up into the sunlight. A smile cracked his face. He took in the spring-like day with a contented breath. He fixed his tie, then stepped back inside. He shut the door, but he propped a window open.

The air outside was so sweet...the sunlight so buttery and warm...he was nearly tempted to go out and enjoy it. But he had finished his task. His goal met and his mark made, The Lamplighter was tired.

He walked to his bedside, then turned to look at the photo of Darling. He blew a kiss at it.

Kian laid himself down onto his made bed. He didn't bother to get under the covers. He set his hands on his stomach, staring at the ceiling silently.

“You're ready to go, then?” The Stranger's voice spoke from nowhere.

“I would say I am,” came The Lamplighter's reply.

“Very well. Then I suppose I shall bid you a good night.”

“No,” The Lamplighter chuckled. “Bid me a good morning. It's been a long time coming.”

With a grin still on his lips, The Lamplighter closed his eyes.

They did not open again.