The Candle

As the room runs black the candle flickers to life. Life flailing involuntarily as the wick burns lower and the flame rises higher. Moving closer to the flame, the cold room grows warm. A finger through the flame, flows without a mark but a hand over the flame is fiery enough to burn. A window opens and a cold wind blows. The candle dances, in a struggle to survive. Alas, the breeze was too strong. The light fades night and the warmth is dominated by the freeze.