I distinctly saw one candle burning in a vacuum of blank, claustrophobic matte blackness. I watched it flicker in some unseen wind. I felt tears, real, definite and unasked for, well up in my eyes knowing it could go out at any time, that existence was not something promised, not something to be taken lightly, passed over and wasted. That it was something importune but given nonetheless. I watched the flame dance the fire’s sad, triumphant waltz, alone but shining, a slow-dance in motion only and couldn’t breathe.