Conversation

The candle melted too fast again. That’s the fourth time this week. Each time, it pools in a different shape on the saucer—yesterday it looked like a question mark, today it’s stretched into something almost like a tiny, waxy planet with a ridge along the equator. Kevin leans against the counter watching me watch it, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll point something out. I did. *"It looks like a secret map,"* I said. He nodded, but not in that way people nod at you when you’re just making small talk. He did it slowly, like he was agreeing with a conclusion he’d already reached. Now there’s a damp spot on the table where the wax dripped, and I’m thinking about whether we need a new saucer. Or if we should just stop using the candle in the first place. Kevin’s fingers tap against the counter—short, deliberate beats, like he’s counting without realizing it. He never does that when he’s thinking about work. *"You’re staring."* His voice cuts through the quiet. *"Again."* I turn. *"You’re tapping."* He stops. *"I’m not."* *"You were."* He raises his hands, palms up. *"Fine. I was. But that’s only because you’re the one who’s been staring at that thing for twenty minutes."* I should protest, but the wax is still warm, still glinting faintly under the light like a promise that hasn’t quite been kept. *"It’s not just a candle,"* I say instead. *"It’s a thing that’s happening."* Kevin exhales, something between amusement and exasperation. *"Jen—"* *"No, really."* I grab the saucer, turn it so he can see. *"Look. The ridge. That’s not random."* Kevin actually looks. Not at the wax, though—at me. *"You’re making up a theory about a melting candle."* *"It’s a *system*,"* I counter. *"You can’t watch something melt over and over and not start looking for patterns. What if the shape depends on how warm the room is? Or if the wind hits it at a certain angle? What if—"* I stop, because he’s grinning now, the kind of grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. The one that says *okay, I’ll play along*. *"What if,"* he mimics, *"the wax is trying to tell us something."* *"Exactly."* I set the saucer down carefully, like it’s evidence. *"And we’re just not listening close enough."* Kevin shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. *"You realize this is how we end up buying one of those stupid mood rings, right?"* I laugh. *"Worse. We’ll buy a lab coat."* He pulls me against his side, warm and solid. *"Fine. But only if you promise not to start taking notes."* Outside, the light is starting to fade, and the wax has settled into its ridge again. I trace it with my finger. *"No promises."* Kevin kisses the top of my head. *"Good. Now let’s burn down the house."*