Flames

As she sits all alone on her chair in the dark, with a knitting needle and a callously made half-sweater, her eyes dart from one corner of the wall to the other. The flickering flame of the candle dances in a frivolous manner, making its shadow do the same. It reminds her of the summer dresses she used to wear back in her youth and the way her hand would immediately stick to her thighs to stop the dress from swaying in the breeze. She notices the shadows more intently now, beginning to make out the faces she has worked so hard to forget. The candle is now burning rapidly and she hears the faint sound of the wax dripping on the floor. She quickly gets up and places her half-knitted sweater on the chair. She walks towards the candle and taking a deep breath, pinches the wick between her index finger and thumb and douses the flame.
She wakes up with a start, her face drenched in sweat and her hair sticking to her scalp. "Lucid dreaming", she thinks, "can take a toll on you sometimes."