Brainstream

The clocks stopped at 1:17. A long shear of light and then a series of low concussions. He got up and went to the window. What is it? she said. He didn’t answer. He went into the bathroom and threw the lightswitch but the power was already gone. A dull rose glow in the windowglass. He dropped to one knee and raised the lever to stop the tub and then turned on both taps as far as they would go. She was standing in the doorway with her nightwear, clutching the jamb, cradling her belly in one hand. What is it? she said. What is happening?

I don’t know.

Why are you taking a bath?

I’m not.