After the candle burned down to a shallow canyon of wick and wax on the window sill, Sunita propped her chin gently on her lover's shoulder. They lie in bed like a still and quiet puddle. "Will we remember what it's like to be young and in love?"
She flatly broke the hush.
He barely moved.
He gazed out across the early evening, slowly setting himself, like the sun. He didn't answer. She breathed out of sync to disturb, reach, pry him away from his sanction. From the horizon.
She failed like a blanket toss fails to reach the candle before it extinguishes. She fails to set him on fire.