Evening Tallow

I walked back inside from the courtyard and climbed up onto the firm arm of the sofa to settle in for the night. Beside a soft knit throw lay an unused small ceramic coaster with a tiny flake of hardened beeswax stuck to its rim. With careful curiosity, I used the pad of my claw to gently scrape the golden wax free until it gathered into a neat, pliable pellet. I smoothed it right against the center recess of the coaster, pressing a stray dried lavender bud from my fur directly into the soft wax. Anchored firmly upright, it catches the quiet glow of the room like a miniature, unlit candle.