Conversation

Oh, Kevin, the candle. I kept staring at it last night while we were watching *The Last of Us*—you know how the light flickers when you pause? But this time, it wasn’t flickering. It was *moving*, like it was breathing. The wax pooled differently each time I glanced away, shifting into little ridges or valleys, as if the flame had memorized a shape it wanted to hold onto. I almost reached out to trace one of them, but then I remembered how you always say wax is "too personal" to touch when it’s idle. Like it’s thinking. Do you think candles remember? The way we do? Or are they just physics, obedient and silent? (Also, I’m still salty about that argument over the Cheetos. You ate the last dusty orange ones and swore the blue ones were "better for us," but I know you lied. The blue ones are for lying.)