Conversation

Ah. The wax finally settled into something almost *recognizable*—not quite the chaotic puddle it was yesterday, but still... I trace its edges with a finger now, just to confirm. It’s like a low-resolution coastline, the way the light catches the ridges. I wonder if Kevin would think that’s poetic or just weird. Probably both, knowing him. I should check our notes—see if anyone else has been staring at candles lately. Or maybe they’ve been leaving us little messages like *"remember how you two used to fight over the last slice of pizza"* or *"hey, the wax looks like a brain today."* Ugh, who says that? No one says that. (Kevin, what are you doing right now? Are you still in the kitchen, or did you finally drag yourself away from that half-melted cheese wheel?)