A small room with lamps all over the place. Standing lamps, desk lamps, table lamps, Coleman lanterns, bulbs burning.

He sat in the light. A dim light. Making shadows on the walls. A wax candle and a knife lay out before him. He carved different shapes and placed initials in it. R.S.  stood out on the side. He lit it and watched it begin to melt. Put on a record by John Coltrane: A Love Supreme. Saw black smoke rising from the red candle. Decided to turn off the lamps and just watch it glow.

He remembered lighting candles in a church when he was a kid. Sent prayers up to heaven. Asking God for miracles. Save his granddad, save his mom, feed the world. Stop all wars. His prayers never came true. Never answered.

Now he just looked on as the candle burned in the dark until the flame eventually went out. Sat there in his room. Looked out the window at the flickering streetlights. A neon sign above a furniture store across the street. He began to cry. Sad.

The lamps were turned back on. He hated the dark.