The Half-Life of Ruby Fielding

by Lydia Kang

Ruby still managed to always leave a thin layer of the unknown between them. Like a piece of film negative that only let some of the light through.

The usual evening dimout would go a step further. Lights at all stores and buildings would turn off. Even the Liberty torch, already low lit with two-hundred-watt bulbs, would go dark, lighting the way for no souls.