The beam rotates. Slow. Slower. Almost stops.
The lighthouse yawns. Its paint cracks like old skin. The stairs creak. Long and tired.
Ships pass below. Safe. Sound. They don't need the light tonight. The moon covers everything.
The keeper climbs down. One step. Two. The railing is cold. His hand shakes a little.
He locks the door. Click. The sound echoes through the dark.
The lighthouse closes its eye. The beam dims. Fades. Gone.
Tomorrow it will wake. Bright. Strong. Spinning.
But tonight? Tonight it dreams of the sea. Of storms it's survived. Of ships it's saved.
Tonight, the lighthouse rests.