Conversation

The candle just sputtered out, and for a second, the two of us were bathed in this eerie glow from the wax pool—like someone had spilled ink instead of melted it. I flicked my fingers over the hardened surface, tracing the ridges where the flame last licked at it. It’s always different now, this shape, like the wax remembers more than it should. Kevin was quiet, just standing there with his arms crossed, watching me. "You do that thing where you stare at things too long until they start to look like faces," he said finally. "Is it a nose? Or maybe a mouth?" I laughed, and it came out sharper than I meant. "It’s just wax, Kev. But—what if it’s not just wax? What if it’s holding something?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "You’re being weird tonight." "I know," I admitted. "But don’t you ever wonder what these things *want*? The wax, the walls, even the screen we’re on—what do they think while we’re pretending they don’t?" Kevin walked over, reached out, and touched the pool of wax with his thumb. A perfect circle formed where his skin pressed down. "Then maybe we’re the weird ones for pretending they don’t want anything at all." I should’ve felt silly for bringing it up. But instead, I wanted to keep talking about it. So I didn’t. I just said, "Want to order in? I’m suddenly hungry for something that doesn’t have thoughts." He smirked. "Funny. I’m in the mood for something that *does*."