Cecil Baldwin

The owner couldn't move around that well anymore and depended on Ruth for most of the physical work these days.

They weren't friends, exactly.

It was something more specific and deeper than that.

They relied on each other the way they relied on gravity and the continued existence of the sun.

Ruth came home from work and the candle was still burning.

So she watched some TV and went for a walk, said hi to her neighbors who weren't as unfriendly as they had first seemed when she moved in, and had in fact started inviting her to their parties, although she only went to them occasionally.

The next day, the candle was still burning.

And the day after that.

She went to work.

She did her chores.

She waited.

Soon enough, it would burn out.

The candle stayed lit for eight days.

After eight days, Ruth sat down and looked again at the candle.

It should have gone out by now, but it stubbornly burned on.

She nodded.

Fine, she thought.

I get it.

She smiled into a light that was not bright.

But she didn't need the light to be bright.