Answers

The last bit of daylight filtered through the kitchen window. She sat at the island eating yogurt while the kid was distracted by an iPad.

When she finished, she took a jar from one of the cabinets. Outside, the sky shifted colors, and she captured the final ray of light, sealing it inside the jar.

It was the last one of the week. She gathered the other four jars and headed down to the basement. With the spoon still in her mouth, she set them down on a table.

The machine was still faulty and needed work, but there was enough light left for her to manage at least one proper look.

An old projector sat backward, aimed into a mirror that reflected onto a white screen stretched across a makeshift circular frame, held together by strings.

She poured the light into a barrel connected by a hose to the projector.

Behind the lens, she placed a tooth into a small container made for that purpose. With the light ready and the tooth in place, she turned the machine on.

The projector rattled, and an image slowly appeared in the mirror.

On the white screen, she saw a man delivering an acceptance speech—the man he had become, in no small part because of the woman she was.

Suddenly, smoke poured from the machine, and the images began racing backward through time.

She watched every choice, every unavoidable heartbreak, alongside the laughter and inescapable joy.

As the light in the barrel nearly ran out and the projector threatened to catch fire, she understood: her question had been answered.