The bedside lamp flickered and went out with a soft click. Leo sat up in bed and stared at the dark room. The clock on the shelf blinked 7:00 and stayed still.
Leo tugged the lamp chain — click, click, click — but the light never came back. He pulled the covers up to his nose and listened to the house settle.
Leo pointed at the ceiling and began counting. One star, two stars, three stars — his wooden toy bear sat cross-legged beside him. He hugged the bear tight.
A tall shadow stretched across the wall and seemed to lean toward him. Leo gasped and pulled the covers over his head, then slowly peeked out.
The shadow wiggled — it was just the coat rack. Its arm waved where the wind had pushed the door. Leo let out a laugh and poked it.
'You're just a coat rack,' Leo said. The bear sat beside him on the pillow. Leo counted seven stars, eight stars, nine stars.
His voice grew slow and soft as he counted. The wooden bear leaned against his cheek. Moonlight painted a silver stripe across the floor.
Leo's eyes grew heavy. The bear sat quiet beside him. The room was dark again, but it didn't feel so big anymore.