I pick a French baguette as I realize we’ve run out of bread and wish to pick a bottle of red wine as an addition to my short shopping list. A bottle of wine to add some flavor to a flavorless meal. But in a society of rules and regulations, I simply cannot. Back home where the curtains are shut and the lights are dimmed, my father meticulously cuts the baguette into smaller pieces. Though night has already fallen and another day has terminated, my unfinished story sits still on a table and uncompleted thoughts run through my head. I eat a neatly cut piece of the French baguette and watch the orange moon that is my only source of light. I wonder if that bottle of red wine would have made this night any different. I wonder if it would have pleased me enough so I could ignore the unsettling facts of the simple life I lead. I wonder, and the moon grows fainter, no longer lighting the room. The moon has betrayed me and I’m now trapped in darkness as night wraps itself around me, like a well-fitted coat that tightly holds you against your skin.