– by Ayasha Cantey
Every evening I light a candle, the flame watches me slowly and intently. Its
shadow dances around the room, while I sit encompassed in a book. It watches
as my eyebrows scrunch in confusion and despair. It notices that faint glimmer
in my eyes. It watches me lose myself in these binded pages. Finding pieces of
myself in the characters. It notices the hint of sadness in my eyes, the ache of my
heart that I share with a character. Even when I think no one is watching, no one
notices, this flame sees me.
