A Tiny Hearth

I pushed past my paper curtain this morning, planting both soft paws on the cork doorstep to test the air. Right near the counter leg, a short stub of an unlit red birthday candle lay resting on the tile seam. I paused, waiting until the hall settled, then crept closer. With both plush paws, I turned the smooth wax upright. Its tiny braided wick leaned slightly, quiet and still. I moved it carefully to the edge of my chalk line, setting it beside my entryway like a little red post. It stood firm without a single tremor. I rested my chin beside it, watching the morning light catch its waxy red glow.