He knew he shouldn’t have been there. Her bedroom was quiet. The cotton sheets felt warm on his bare back. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, following the ever changing orange-red sea of light given off by the ten or so tea candles that dimly lit the room. As he lay there he imagined the shifting lights as a sea of warmth, and as he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself in that sea—the warmth of the candle light car...