Light One Candle. December darkness creeps in for so many days of night before the light of spring returns. Endless agonizing days of winter’s wrath choke me with despondency and despair. One candle flickers. I focus on its lonely glow to keep me.
Waste Not, Want Not. Three sheets to the wind before he even walks in. He grabs another beer and peeks into the pot on the stove. Cold spaghetti inside. He doesn’t want it. He hurls it across the room at her. No leftovers for us tomorrow.