Candle

Would it really work? Sydney wondered as she sliced the masking tape, freeing the cardboard box that was a bit larger than her hand. She spent about a third of her paycheck from her job for this product that her friend raved about. Her friend even made accommodations to get her past the long waiting list.

            She studied the insides of the box.  There was pastel blue tissue paper and silver confetti that scattered the light shining through her apartment window. An aroma of sugar and citrus filled her nose. Her hands trembled as she removed the stuffing and tossed it in the waste bin filled with frustrated crumpled notes and slips from her therapist. What was left was a large candle and a complimentary match box. The glass container had gold lace etchings, and in the center, there was twelve rectangles with buttons on the bottom to select numbers like a kitchen timer. In tiny writing right below were:

            HH:MM MM/DD/YYYY

            “It’s where you put the date and time, like a clock!” Her friend pointed out when she showed off her own.

She noticed the company logo Fragrant Memories below it, in intricate calligraphy. Sydney took a deep breath as she pressed the buttons and lit the candle with a match. She wanted to recall those fading events that day. The gray smoke swirled and looped, the aroma invited her and entranced her.

            Sydney blinked as she saw that her historic city apartment was replaced with her old hall style dormitory from college. The familiar old mildew entered her nose.

            “Mom, shut up!”

            Sydney froze. She looked to see another version of herself, ten years younger. Her mother’s voice echoed through the phone speaker.

            “Honey, I’m sorry.”

            “You know what, I’m done talking with you, I hate you!”

            “Syd-”

            Her frustrated younger self tossed the phone on her bed and she turned to her old roommate to rant. The voices of them slowly faded. All she could hear was ringing, similar to what she used to hear on old televisions. She was right. Her phone call was the reason her family changed completely.

Sydney snapped out of her trance. She was back at her apartment. Tears flowed as she was gasping and hyperventilating so much that she felt like she was suffocating. How could she had not realized it really was her that started the trigger of events? The coroner even said it was because of an unhealthy diet for the sudden cardiac arrest. In a fit of rage, betrayed that her memories had shown her the real truth, she grabbed the candle and threw it to the ground, shattering it to pieces.

The glass clock still remained intact: the few minutes before the recorded time of her mother’s death.