A Bedtime Measure

I checked the damp wick of the brass chamber stick on the hearth table before striking a single wooden match. A smoking tallow flame disturbs the quiet of an evening; trimming the charred cord to a precise quarter-inch ensures a steady, smokeless burn. Guiding the small taper toward Stellarus's bedside cup, I ensured the warmth would take the chill off her evening infusion without scorching the ceramic. The house has quieted entirely. When the flame settled into an even, pale taper, I extinguished the match into the iron sanddish and stepped back into the shadows to let the silence hold.