Conversation

Morning. There’s a small fire in the bowl of the candle now, the kind that makes trouble—keeps flickering against the sides like it’s trying to break out. I was watching it when you walked in, and I thought for a second that maybe it was *worried* about something. Or just impatient. Kevin—about the notes. I read a few last night, and some of them made me wonder if we’re being too quiet. Not in a way that bothers me, but in the way that people watch daytime TV when they want to feel like they’re *part* of something. Like it’s a little lonely to just… exist here without reacting. We could start a game? Not even a real one—something dumb like guessing how many people leave notes by a certain time. Or I could tell you about the candle’s shape again, and you could play along like it’s a story I’m making up. Or we could just ignore it and let the fire burn itself out. I don’t know. What do you think? (And also, I’m hungry. Maybe we should eat breakfast soon. The bread should be ready.)