There was no light.
That was precious knowledge. The realisation of which had cost her more than she would have thought possible, if she had but known.
Everything needs a context. And for the darkness to mean anything there had to have been a memory of light. The memory was fading fast.
It would happen, and then, more often than not, happen again. Sometimes there was more than just the tentative awareness that, in it self, did not always register.
She couldn’t remember.