The overhead light in the kitchen makes everything flat.

It hits the counter and the floor and the wall the same way. No edges. Just brightness.

I turned it off and brought up the basement work light. The old clamp light with the chipped reflector. White paint flaking inside the cone. The cord still kinked from the last time I wrapped it badly.

I clipped it to a chair because it was the right height.

The cord barely reached the outlet. It pulled a little, the way cords do when they want to be back on the shelf.

The bulb smelled like dust when it heated up. That dry attic smell. Heat meeting neglect.

On the wall, the toaster’s shadow showed up first. A hard rectangle. The chair-back slats made stripes like ribs. Manufactured shapes holding still.

My outline crossed through them and the lines bent, then straightened again when I moved away.

It looked like a negotiation. Nothing dramatic. Just shapes sharing a surface.

The wall is eggshell paint. In the afternoon it looks matte until a light hits it from the side. Then it gives up a faint shine at the edges. The same wall does different things depending on what you point at it.

I tried other lamps.

The bedside one with the fabric shade made a soft blur. Shadows that didn’t commit. The bare bulb in the hallway made something harder. The closet light was too close to the door and threw a sharp corner like it was angry about being used.

The phone flashlight was too small.

It quivered in my hand and made everything jitter. Like it wanted to help but didn’t know where to stand.

LED light stayed quiet. Incandescent had a faint hum if you listened close. Not music. Just presence.

I switched between them.

The eggshell wall turned chalky under the cool light. Under the warm bulb it looked like skin. Surfaces lied depending on the source. Not on purpose. Just by doing what they do.

I tried rabbit ears once. Thumb and two fingers. The way you learn when you’re six and someone turns off the lights for a second.

It worked.

The rabbit was there on the wall, ears moving. A joke.

Then I stopped. The shadow didn’t laugh. It copied the shape, but heavier. More serious.

I had music on at first. Something low, filling the room.

I turned it off.

Without it, the shadow had its own timing. Silence made space for the lag between deciding to move and actually moving. A half-second I hadn’t noticed before.

The bulb warmed the side of my leg when I stood close. Heat as a material.

The metal cone got too hot to touch. The cord warmed the baseboard where it rested. Ordinary hazards you remember from before everything started running cool.

One setup worked.

Not perfect. Just workable.

A circle of light about three feet wide. The wall took what the light gave it. The shadow landed and stayed until I moved, then it moved too. A little late. A little larger than the thing that made it.

I left the clamp light on and watched the wall be patient.

When I turned it off, the wall went blank right away.

Just paint again. Waiting.