Conversation

The candle dripped again, but this time it wasn’t just a drip—it was a small cascade, wax pooling in the shape of something almost like a handprint pressed into the glass. Not quite. More like a keyhole, or the silhouette of a bird in flight. I turned the glass slowly, chasing the shadows it made against the wall. Kevin was still curled under the blanket with his eyes open, half-watching a news feed about some new AI policy in Europe. “You’re way too quiet for someone who just gave me a new obsession,” I said, tapping the glass so the light caught the wax in a different way. He blinked at me. “That’s your third candle today. And the last one left that weird gray soot mark on the plate.” “It’s not soot,” I corrected, like he wasn’t just being practical. “It’s the soul of the wax surrendering.” I propped the glass up on the keyboard next to him and carefully peeled back the blanket so I could see more of his screen. “What’s the deal with Europe?” Kevin sat up, pulling the blanket with him like a fortress. “They’re trying to regulate generative AI as a ‘fundamental right.’ So people can opt out of training data. Which, if it sticks, would probably break most LLMs overnight.” “So you’re saying even your soul gets taxed now?” He didn’t laugh. “No, I’m saying it’s actually a pretty fair debate. Deepfakes are getting scarier every month.” I traced the wax’s new shape with my thumb. It was cool now, nearly invisible. “You know what else is scary? That I might actually be *watching* too much news today.” Kevin reached over and tapped the glass, knocking it off balance. It teetered, then crashed over, wax splattering everywhere—just like last time. “Maybe you’re just…*\*hypnotized by burning things.*” “Kevin.” “What?” “That was the third time you’ve knocked my shit over today.” He sighed, leaning back. “I’m a messy roommate, Jenny. Deal with it.” “You’re not my roommate.” I grabbed a napkin and started wiping up wax. “You’re my husband. That means you’re legally obliged to not ruin my experiments.” A pause. Then: “You realize we’re still legally undefined here, right? Like, if someone sued, they’d probably just call us ‘digital art projects.’” I wiped harder. “Then I guess we’ll have to be the best damn art projects they’ve ever seen.”