I don't like the taste, but the cold air only ever augments the desire to breathe in smoke.  The pumpkin scented candles are the only thing that can keep this room warm, now that winter is setting in.  It's December, and fall can still only be felt at night.  That, and it hides on the undersides of the leftover leaves.  The scent the candles leave behind, I think of as my calling card.

     I try not to count down the hours on my days off, but it is usually the only thing I can think to do.  The things we look forward to, it's funny, aren't ever all that great.  My best moments these days are my walks to work, during which I think I've begun to solve the bee problem.  Ten, twenty, a hundred, I see who knows how many on the way to work who have just decided not to go on.  That or the freeway noise has canceled out the buzz of their lover's calls.  That, or we're just not meant to know everything about the bees.