“When viewed in an inertial reference frame, an object either remains at rest or continues to move at a constant velocity, unless acted upon by an external force.”
Obi-Wan Kenobi* #quote
Tomorrow CJ might be coming over so that could be fun. Also look out in front of you! Haha got ya. Anyway onto the flash fiction!
An adventurer boasts about his accomplishments at my table. I've noticed that the more avidly they boast, the less likely their feats are true, and more I can catch a contradiction in their tale that shows they didn't do all they said. The ones that don't boast too loudly and convey their tales humbly usually are the ones who know what they're doing because from years of experience their adventures aren't as amazing and don't need to be exaggerated on.
Bars invest in magic candles like me to save money in the long run. I put my flame out on my own at the right time to avoid being a fire hazard and I last longer. Whatever magic they used to make me binds me to enjoy such simple work. Or perhaps I just like hearing the tales of all the adventurers who visit this crossroad town and all the gossip as well. I wonder if candles in more lonely places go mad but still do their work because of their nature.
I'm not sure how I'd be without hearing all these stories, and knowing all the frequent visitors. Besides adventurers the average people talk and I've learned much about many people. They talk about their friends. I think I've become so familiar to these people from listening to them I've become friends to them in a way. When you know everything about someone from overhearing their conversations you're their friend right? Without the ability to speak though everything is one sided.
Even though my life as a candle was extended due to my magical nature my wick reached its end. I couldn't stop myself from burning myself out, the magic bound me to my service. In my final moments I wished that I could have someone gained the ability to speak. Just to at least say goodbye to the people who sat at the table I lit.