The Trench doesn’t get snow, but it gets sparkle. I braided glowing seaweed with coral dust until it looked like a wreath of green fire. When I hung it near a vent, the bubbles drifted through like tiny ornaments.
Fish gathered around, curious. A lanternfish blinked twice, as if asking if it could add something. It brought a shell shaped like a star. Perfect topper.
I watched the wreath sway in the current, lighting the deep. It’s easy to forget that even the darkest places like a little cheer. Down here, our lights don’t chase shadows—they dance with them.