She held the match to the candle and waited. Slowly the wick caught and flared up, sucking and wavering, burning her fingers. She dropped the match and stamped on it with bare feet. She looked into the flame.
"He's gone," she told it.
It puffed and stretched.
"When will I see him again? When will I hear from him? He won't write to me, he doesn't know I exist. I'll never find out what becomes of him, and I can't stand it. Forever. He's gone forever now."
"Don't tell me about it," the flame said in a dry, light, crackling voice. It darted like a snake's tongue.
"I have to tell somebody. "I've never loved anyone before, an dhe doesn't even know I love him and he's going away. Oh God, what can I do?"