Every night at 2 A.M., my 82-year-old neighbor cried over cinnamon-roll dough for a husband she buried five years ago.

Every night at 2 A.M., my 82-year-old neighbor cried over cinnamon-roll dough for a husband she buried five years ago.

PART 1 — The Light That Wouldn’t Turn Off (Context)

The first time I saw the light, I thought it was a mistake.