Pine Trees and Sandalwood- Cas Young

I'm arguably the most dangerous thing in this whole house. When I was first bought, the self-checkout said she'd have to present a photo-ID to the attendant. That's how dangerous I am. But I'm kind of small, and I'm nothing special, and I'm not even a pretty color. I'm two inches long and black and I spend most days sitting on top of a dresser on the metal lid that used to live on top of a candle. I'm glad he doesn't complain that I'm too heavy.

She doesn't like lighting me very much. I can tell by the way her hands shake when she's tilting me to the side and the little flame ghosts her fingers. I burnt her once, but she didn't shout, and I haven't hurt her since then. Even when my little flame was small, blue, and shaky at best, she still used me.

Her mom steals me at night sometimes to light her cigarettes. Part of me is sad- cigarettes are full of bad stuff and if it weren't for me, she wouldn't be smoking it. But another part of me is used to it. This is what I was made to do, anyways. I'm dangerous. That's why we needed an ID. Her mom leaves me outside when she's done with me. It's cold outside, and it rained a couple times, so I felt pretty sad. A few days later, she found me and took me back upstairs to her room, back on the metal lid, who said he missed me.

I like it better up there. I don't have to light cigarettes. I don't worry about burning her anymore, and even if I do, she doesn't let me know, but the little quiver of her hand is oddly comforting. She always seems happier after she uses me, she says the room smells like Christmas and her mom say it's really strong and I'm just a little black lighter that can't smell anything, but if I could, I bet it would smell great.

My favourite candle she lights with me is a little black one with one wick, I think it's shorter than me. She says it smells like sandalwood and that she likes the smell of sandalwood and I just kind of have to take her word for it, but nothing makes me happier than knowing she's using me with a warm heart. That's all a two-inch lighter can ask for, right?