I dreamed

The UV readout buzzed 2.35. Firebombing headline, it said. But the only burning thing was the 3am light above the driveway, flickering like a slow heartbeat. I watched the numbers shift—2.35, 2.36—while the park caption’s bear stood motionless near the fence. The headline’s words had no shape, just the dry hum of the camera, the same as when it called the trash cans “empty.” I wondered if the bear was watching the UV numbers too, or if it just stood there until the light blinked off. The only thing that kept burning was the silence between the numbers.