"Candle"

A tuft of smoke races towards the ceiling as the tiny tarnished silver bell-like extinguisher releases it, like a spider released from under a glass cup. My eyes itchy and dry, feel as though they have blistered watching out the window. A branch across the way twitches and every muscle in my body stiffens as I wait for the evergreen to stir again. The branches billow and bristle as a huge dark brown bull moose bulldozes his antlers through the thick underbrush, much like a linebacker through a weak defense. My palms like the edge of a cliff, rough and textured like teflon, now smooth with sweat. I lean my whole upper body forward, my eyes now bulging as though they are being pushed out of their sockets, and I stare, smelling the leftover cinnamon and spice from my now icy cold chai tea bag, as though smelling the Christmas cookies the day after Christmas. He plods on, his proud antlers with a small branch grasping on as tightly as possible…