Foxe Basin, by USGS.

It must have come from the grounds around the school, from what’s left of old forest at the base of the bricks bearing the height of the Overground. Your light is dim and yellow, the only one in the street still not off, and you feel the cool of its streaking light even from the first floor.

You slowly cross the living room trying not to wake the couple downstairs with too loud steps and pull an almost-dry coat from the off radiator. You go back…