The Fire Glow of a Candle

A man and a woman emerged from the master bedroom. They held a small brass tray with a little candle sitting on it. She was barefoot, wearing the same dress she'd been wearing out on Pound Street. All I had to do was bench the flame of the candle out. Put the tips of my fingers and pinch it out. If I didn't want to do it now, I could come back. It didn't matter when, because they lived there, and I would always be welcome.