It listened for a little while when the stove called it lazy and the fireplace said, "If only you would just focus...." It tried to hold a flame as long as it could, but the candle understood after trying for some time that it had been made differently; there was something about it that simply wouldn't allow it to burn. And once the candle let the flickering fire go out for the last time, it felt what it used to feel before it had been removed from its package, before its wax had been made to melt: everything inside of it was still. For a few minutes before it was picked up and tossed in the trash, the candle sat in its spot in the dish on the windowsill and enjoyed watching the fireflies outside drift quietly in the darkness.
No comments:
Post a Comment