Two green candles for the bathroom, to eradicate the clinical smell of the chlorine detergent. Two pink candles for the bedroom, to make the light softer. I light them with a glittery flashing lighter, bought at a car boot sale. 50 pence. Bargain. I remember another lighter, it was simple, green maybe, not with a button you press, but a little wheel, I could never quite get it to spark, on the balcony, in our flat, when I was seven. This was when husband mark 2 would leave for a work trip. My mother and I would watch his dark silhouette submerge himself into the shados of the street that would eventually take him to the train station. We would wait, and there was a fumble, a flash and a waving dot of light, a flame from his lighter. We did the same in return. It was magic for me then, I liked my stepdad then. I had no idea this was one of the little quirks him and my mother had, for me it was a test of communication, an indication of attainable distance.
-T
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