The Ministry of Luminous Resources announces a moonlight tax. Households must report how much moonlight they consume after midnight. Inspectors carry devices that measure glow on curtains. People laugh until fines arrive. Rooftop gardeners protest; plants depend on unpaid light. Smugglers appear, selling bottled moonbeams harvested from rural fields. Suri, a night nurse, cannot afford the tax. She works under fluorescent lights but unwinds on her balcony with the moon. An inspector knocks one night, device blinking. Suri invites him in for tea. He confesses the ministry is broke; the tax is desperation.
Suri offers a deal: the hospital will donate excess fluorescent lumens if the ministry stops counting moonbeams. The inspector laughs, then considers. The ministry introduces a lumen exchange program: trade artificial light credits for moonlight exemptions. The black market collapses. People sign up, swapping harsh office glow for soft sky. Rooftop gardeners teach workshops on efficient moonlight use, shading and reflecting to share beams. Eventually, the ministry admits moonlight cannot be owned. They keep the exchange program anyway, now to reduce energy waste. Suri keeps her balcony ritual, untaxed, sipping tea while the moon shines freely. She writes an op-ed titled "You Cannot Invoice the Night" that goes viral. The ministry quietly disbands. Years later, Suri's grandchildren ask about the time government tried to meter romance. She tells them the inspector still sends holiday cards, signed, "Thanks for the tea and the reminder that some things glow for everyone."
On clear nights, neighbors gather on Suri's balcony for "tax-free light." They bring telescopes, violins, quiet. The inspector sometimes joins, leaving his device at home. They laugh about bureaucracy and share soup recipes. The moon remains indifferent to ledgers. The lumen exchange office becomes a community greenhouse, its paperwork drawers filled with seed packets. Suri's grandchildren plant moonflowers out front, blooming only after midnight, untaxed and unmetered.