The lights go out – another power outage. “Grab the candles,” Mom says, and I do. My younger brother and I raid every room to collect the tall candles and votives spaced around the house. I hurry from shelf to shelf gathering wax sticks in my arms and place them in the living room, a few candles in each corner except for a small red votive. That one I keep. It is the one I will take to the coffee table to use to read. I slide my book, Things Fall Apart, beside the candle holder, determined to finish the last three chapters, but lacking conviction. So the book remains closed. A sigh escapes my brother’s lips.
“This is boring,” he says. A drop of wax falls on my book.
“I know,” I say, but really, I am enjoying the stillness. I like to watch the candle burn and feel that life is simple.
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