The Last Bulletin

At eleven fifty-eight, the first bulb in Lane Number Four burst into full light. Light came running into the courtyard, danced along the walls, and for one moment the whole house woke up — the fan shuddered, the fridge gave a small hum, and Ammi clapped her hands with joy. Mahnoor, Hashir and Zoya looked at one another, then held the radio tighter between them. It sat on the shelf, silent, its battery box empty as always.