The square of cardboard attached to the Christmas present candle said that the wax will remember how long I first burn the candle. It will melt no further than the tide mark left by those first burning hours. This worries me immensely. What if my wax memory has been set and each time I burn I'll melt until I meet the edges of where I was once before?
I've spent the afternoon looking for my own personal cardboard square printed with instructions. I didn't find the square but I recall the feeling of putting a school jumper over an ice cold blue blouse while my shoes sit shining and ready on an old towel on top of the washing machine. My father used to polish all the shoes once a week, lining them neatly by colour. It was his sixtieth birthday two days ago, we dined on a roof watching ferries cross the harbour, nobody thought to take a photo.
I've spent the afternoon looking for my own personal cardboard square printed with instructions. I didn't find the square but I recall the feeling of putting a school jumper over an ice cold blue blouse while my shoes sit shining and ready on an old towel on top of the washing machine. My father used to polish all the shoes once a week, lining them neatly by colour. It was his sixtieth birthday two days ago, we dined on a roof watching ferries cross the harbour, nobody thought to take a photo.
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