The Candle Seller

Clancy tugged at his shirt as he stood in front of the mirror. He scrutinized his appearance, starting with his shoes; they were scuffed at the toes, but still in decent condition. His jeans were unwrinkled. Next was his red polo shirt, which was still warm after being dried that morning. He took a step closer to the mirror and searched for the spot where he had spilled a large glop of yogurt the other day. After a while, he stepped back, satisfied that he couldn't find it. Then he ran his fingers over his smooth chin and examined his glasses. One of the lenses was smudged, so he took them off and rubbed them with his shirt.

Before putting the glasses back on, he glanced at his bare eyes. Clancy was a different man, a much graver one, without his glasses. He had barely walked the earth for half a lifetime, yet his eyes were so dull, filled with so much melancholy, it was as if he had seen centuries of misfortune and tragedy. He slipped them on. Now, the gloom wasn't as noticeable, or at the very least, wasn't discernible: anyone could mistake it for fatigue.

Happy with his appearance, he grabbed his jacket, his wallet, and his keys, then tied his coarse hair into a small ponytail. He walked into the garage and slumped into his old Ford. He started the car, grabbed the gear shift, and then he hesitated. The pause turned into a minute, and a minute turned into three. A million thoughts were coursing through his head at once, and an overwhelming majority of them began with "what if". Without warning, his head began to ache.

I could just not go. I could delay this indefinitely he thought. I could go back into the house, back into bed, and I could just sleep and pretend that I never thought about going...

Clancy shook his head. He jerked the gearshift into reverse. He rolled his car out of the driveway and onto the street, drumming his thumbs in an odd rhythm to distract himself. He drove down the block and busied himself with details he pretended to not have noticed before. All of this was done without thinking, lest he dwell on his doubts and turn back.