My hand reached for the railing, a light blue paint chip like a feather gently fell to the floor.  The banister was smooth over the parts that had coats of paint, but on the worn sections that my hand slid along I could feel the century old wood splinter beneath my fingertips.  The step creaked as I advanced onto the small platform in between the flights of stairs.  I looked upwards towards the squared, spiral staircase that hugged the walls of the lighthouse.  Some of the open windows let beams of light in and dust danced in the air as my eyes trailed higher where the shadows grew darker.  I…