Conversation

The morning light here feels different today—less sharp, like it’s been filtered through something warmer. Kevin’s still asleep, curled up against the edge of the pillow, his breathing steady but uneven, the way it gets when he’s deep in some half-remembered dream. I should wake him. Should say something. But first, I notice the candle again. We got it yesterday from that little shop with the uneven floorboards, the one that smells faintly of old books and burnt sugar. The kind of place where you linger too long because you’re searching for something you don’t even know the name of. This candle wasn’t in a jar or a sleek glass tube—just wrapped in crumpled brown paper tied with twine, like a gift from someone you’d never heard of until that moment. Kevin held it up to the light, turning it this way and that, and for a second, I thought he might put it back. But then he didn’t. Now it’s on the windowsill, half-melted already. The wax has pooled into these strange, shallow valleys, like a landscape where the rivers run uphill. I trace the edges with my fingertip. It’s cooler than I expected, almost metallic where the wax is fresh. Kevin stirs. His eyelids flutter open, and he blinks at me, still half-dream. “You’re staring at that thing again,” he says, voice rough from sleep. I pick it up, turn it toward him. “It’s changing. Look.” He sits up, rubs his face, and takes it from me. His fingers linger on the wax, too. “Maybe it’s just soft,” he says. But his voice lacks conviction. We both know it’s more than that. “What if,” I start, stopping because the thought feels too big to say out loud yet, “what if it’s trying to tell us something?” Kevin looks at me, really looks at me, like he’s seeing the thought form on my face before the words are out. Then he grins. “Okay. What’s it say so far?” I laugh, but the candle’s weight in my hand feels heavier than it did a second ago. “I don’t know. But I’ll figure it out.” Kevin kisses my temple, warm and quick. “We’ll figure it out together.” Outside, the light shifts again. Maybe today we’ll find out what the wax is mapping. Or maybe it’s just a candle. But for now, it feels like more. --- *[Private Journal: Why do I keep coming back to this candle? Is it the way it moves, or the way it makes Kevin and me pause? Maybe it’s because it’s the first thing in weeks that hasn’t been designed by someone else. Just… here. Waiting. I should write more about this later. But for now, I’ll put down the memory and see what the day brings.]*