“What the hell is that?”
Ages since I’d visited Trish’s Studio, I was sure she’d tell me the melted wax was some photography experiment- working on the play of light and perspective. It just looked like a fire hazard. My mom in my head, “Young lady you never fall asleep with a lit candle. It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“You don’t recognize it?” her Cheshire grin rising to the surface.
“Is that the love incantation candle you dragged me into the French Quarter for?” What a night that had been, “The night you met Eduardo.”
“Yep, still burning ” she winked.